The Accidental Animagus
by White Squirrel
Summary: Harry unlocks a unique ability to escape his abusive relatives, and it gives him what he always wanted: a loving family. But will his new family and his feline side be enough to help him defeat the dark lord who has pursued him from birth?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling, who is gracious enough to open her work up to the interpretation of the Internet.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

With one beefy hand, a purple-faced Vernon Dursley pinned his nephew to the wall while smacking him across the face with the other. "I will not have any of your freakishness in my house, boy!" he bellowed, following it up with another smack.

Harry Potter's trouble had started before he could remember, but age five was quickly shaping up to be much worse than the previous four years. It had already been bad enough that he was made to sleep in a cupboard, wear his over-sized cousin's castoffs and do as many chores as he could handle. Somehow, going to primary school just made things worse. His aunt and uncle hadn't wanted to send him, but they knew they couldn't get away with keeping him at home, so they grumbled about taking time away from "earning his keep" and sent him away with Dudley. It took all of two days before his cousin and his friends invented their new favourite game of "Harry hunting", which they engaged in whenever the teachers weren't looking. It took all of four days before, while being scolded for a teacher for knocking over his juice (which Dudley had actually done), Harry was shocked to see the teacher's hair turn neon blue.

That evening was the first time Uncle Vernon had hit him himself instead of letting Dudley do it. Young Harry had no idea what was going on and only a vague idea of why he was in trouble. But he couldn't mistake his uncle ranting all night about his freakishness and vowing to "stamp that rubbish out."

Harry still had bruises a week later when the next strange, unexplainable thing happened. He didn't mind being locked in his cupboard too much most of the time. At least it kept his relatives away from him. But something had changed in him after that first beating. The urge to respond, suppressed by years of conditioning, started to assert itself again. Then, after being beat on some more by Dudley's gang at school and having his loudmouth cousin stomp on the stairs above his head one too many times, that urge crystallised into a single, overwhelming desire: escape.

"You're going to stay in your cupboard when you're told, boy!" Uncle Vernon's rant continued. "You're not to let yourself out unless _we_ say so. Just like your good-for-nothing parents, always getting into trouble. Worthless, the lot of you!" He punctuated each sentence with either a slap to the face or a punch to the torso.

Harry's cupboard door had seemingly unlocked itself and flown open with a bang. Uncle Vernon had rushed over and slammed it shut before Harry could react, but it happened twice more right in front of him, at which point he was forcibly dragged out into the living room. As the beating began, Harry willed himself not to cry, but it was a losing battle, and as expected, it only enraged his uncle more. By now, he didn't even notice Aunt Petunia and Dudley standing by and scowling at him.

"Don't you cry at me, boy, or I'll give you something to cry about!"

With that last punch, Harry's crying jumped an octave. Then, the lights started flickering, and the doors and windows began to rattle.

"Vernon!" Aunt Petunia cried with a twinge of fear.

"Stop that! Stop that right now, you little freak!"

Harry kicked to try to get away, but his uncle held him too tight. Unseen by anyone, the lights began flipping on and off in all of the rooms at once. The floors began to vibrate.

"Daddy!" Dudley cried.

"_Stop that this instant!_"

BANG!

As Harry's cries ascended to an inhuman yowl, every light bulb in the house exploded, every door slammed open, and all three Dursleys were thrown across the room and landed in a heap. When they came to their senses, Harry Potter was nowhere to be seen.

Vernon ran to the door, shouting, "Get back here, boy! Boy? I said _get back here!_" But there was no sign of his nephew. "He can't have gotten far," he said, finally lowering his voice. He saw the neighbours staring, now, drawn to the windows by the minor earthquake that had struck Privet Drive. Grumbling, he gave up and shut the door.

He did not notice a small black cat sitting in the bushes by the door—a cat with white feet, piercing green eyes, and a strange, white zigzag mark on its head. When he shut the door, the cat ran away down the street without looking back.

"Vernon, what happened?" Petunia asked in the half-destroyed living room.

"Little freak ran away, and I say let him go. They'll find him soon enough. I'll fix the lights tomorrow."

The Dursleys closed up the house and took an uneasy dinner by candlelight. They sincerely hoped that their troubles were over for the time being, but they would be visited by strangeness twice more that evening.

With the first visit, two Ministry of Magic Obliviators appeared at the door and stunned the Dursleys before they could even get a word in. There was no sign of any wizards wandering around the neighbourhood, and the Trace showed no underage magic users on the premises, so the Ministry had concluded the magical discharge at 4 Privett Drive was caused by a passing troublemaker. The Obliviators repaired the damaged light fixtures, set right the overturned furniture, mended the splinters broken from the doors, and wiped all memory of the incident from the Dursleys' minds.

They cast a warming charm on the food just before they _rennervated _the family, so that not even the smallest detail was out of place. They left without even looking at the cupboard under the stairs, and the Dursleys awoke thinking nothing unusual had happened.

The other visitor that evening wore a purple robe and a long, white beard. Albus Dumbledore was more worried than he had been in years when he knocked on the door on Number 4. Even from the outside, a quick detection charm told him that Harry Potter was not in the house.

A tall, lanky, horse-faced woman opened the door to the shock of her life. "You!" she shouted. "What are you doing here?"

"A pleasure to see you, too, Petunia," Dumbledore said flatly.

"Who is it Petunia?" Vernon called.

"It's that freak who left the boy with us."

"What?" Vernon barged to the door. "You! You can _have_ that boy back. We never wanted him in the first place."

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up at this. The Dursleys seemed to be even more unfriendly than he expected, and the large man was gearing up for a serious rant. He cut him off quickly by saying, "Where _is _the boy?"

"He's right…" Vernon stopped. The boy was _supposed_ to be in his cupboard, but not only could he not get away with saying that, for some reason he didn't think it was true. He tried to think over the what happened that evening. It was coming back a blur but he managed to recall one true fact: "The boy ran away this afternoon. Just took off down the street, couldn't keep up with him. And I say good riddance. Let someone else take care of him for a change."

"And you just let him go off on his own?"

"Yes. He's been nothing by trouble from the start…"

Dumbledore tuned out the rant. From their behaviour, something was definitely not right. He took a peak inside the two adult Dursleys' minds, but he didn't have to look far to find an answer, though he wished he hadn't: telltale signs of obliviation, and what looked like a pretty lousy job of it, too. Something horrible had happened here and been shoddily covered up.

"…and I won't tolerate any more of his freakishness!"

"Enough!" Dumbledore shouted before stunning all three of them. Casting a new memory charm to cover the old one, he instructed them: "You are very concerned because your nephew ran away. You will contact the authorities immediately. You will ask Arabella Figg to keep an eye out for him, and you will inform her at once when he is found. You will not remember my visit tonight." When he was done, he hit them with a delayed _Rennervate_ that gave him just enough time to step outside the property line and apparate to the gates of Hogwarts.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall entered the Headmaster's office to find him bent over some of his many devices with a frown, muttering incantations, with a look in his eyes that was darker than any she had seen in years. "Albus, what's wrong?" she asked. "You said it was urgent."

Albus looked up. "Oh, Minerva, I fear something terrible has just happened," he said. "I have reason to believe that Harry Potter has been taken."

"What?" Minerva stumbled in shock, but managed to sit herself down. "Taken? How?"

"This afternoon, he dropped off my trackers entirely. They indicate that he is still alive, but I cannot find him anywhere."

"You can't find him? But what could do such a thing?"

"To block my tracking charms would require the boy to be hidden behind very powerful wards that I am not keyed into, possibly a Fidelius Charm. I've just returned from his relatives' house. They claimed that he had run away, but in their minds, I saw obvious signs of obliviation."

Minerva put the pieces together. "Someone, somehow, got through your wards, kidnapped him, hid him behind these other wards, and obliviated his relatives. And because they didn't involve you…"

Albus nodded grimly. "We can only assume that their intent is nefarious."

She shot to her feet. "We must find him, Albus!"

"Yes, we must," he agreed, "but it must be done discreetly. We cannot risk panicking the public or tipping our own hand."

"But the boy…"

"Is still alive for the time being, which suggests that their intent is not to kill him. I also saw no indication that the blood wards had been breached, so whoever actually took him did not mean overt harm. We must begin investigating places and individuals who would have access to those kinds of wards, but we cannot allow the boy's enemies to know he is missing. _That _would be an even greater disaster."

Minerva sank back down in her seat. "I suppose you're right, Albus. I'll begin looking with what little time I can spare."

"Thank you, Minerva. I will do the same."

* * *

Harry Potter, at that moment, was wandering the streets of Little Whinging, very confused. He was happy to have gotten away from his relatives, but he had no idea how he had done it. From the fur and tail, he could tell that he had been turned into some kind of animal. It wasn't until he managed to see a distorted reflection in a car hubcap that he figured out that that animal was a cat. He didn't know how he could have turned into a cat, nor did he know how to change back, but he could guess that it had something to do with the "freakishness" his uncle had been shouting about, and he decided to get farther away before trying.

Adding to his confusion were the strange sensations that accompanied being a cat. He could see amazingly well in the fading light. His whiskers tickled his face with the slightest breeze. He was surrounded by high pitched squeaks and chirps that he had never noticed before. But the most disorienting part was the smells. He was bombarded by dozens of unfamiliar smells, some of them completely overpowering to his human mind, but all sensed individually. He could only identify a few of them—the most prevalent were the grass, the dirt, and the autumn leaves—but there were many others, trails presumably left by animals, by people, by passing cars, all subtly different in ways he couldn't explain.

Harry must have looked a rather strange cat, wandering back and forth across the yards, stopping every few steps, looking all around, and sometimes turning around before moving on as he tried to take in everything about the world around him. He quickly got turned around doing this, and he had only made it a few blocks before he had gotten thoroughly lost.

While he didn't care about being able to find his aunt and uncle's house again, he presently realised that he was quite hungry, and thirsty, not to mention sore from the beating he had received, and he didn't know how to deal with any of those things as a cat.

Water wasn't that hard to find. He wasn't used to drinking water from anything but a glass or a garden hose, but enough people in Little Whinging had ponds or pools or fountains, and he wasn't about to be picky. He came to the first small pond he found, and he was surprised to learn that one of the scents he could now smell was that of water. He was reasonably sure water didn't have a smell as a human. With a little practice, he was able to lap up the water like he had seen cats do in pictures.

Food was harder to find. Harry knew that cats were supposed to eat mice, but he didn't know how to catch mice, and he wasn't sure he could actually eat one if he did. He'd also heard of people feeding stray cats that showed up on their porches. He decided to try pawing at the back door of the house with the pond, only to find himself faced with a woman who acted disturbingly like his Aunt Petunia and shooed him away with a broom. Running away in fright, he resolved to find some other source of food.

He saw a couple of other cats and tried to follow them, hoping they knew where to find food, but they hissed at him when he got too close. But they had to eat, too, so there must be food somewhere nearby. After a while, he decided that since his cat's nose could smell water, maybe he could follow it to some food. He sniffed the air and got a whiff of a bunch of smells, some of which, though he didn't know why, _did_ smell tasty. Haltingly, he followed one trail to an open rubbish bin. After scaring away a squirrel that had dived into it, he investigated. The smell of rot was overwhelming, but he could tell that part was coming from further down. He found some table scraps on top, even some meat. They were dirty, but not rotten. He grabbed a big chunk of half-eaten chicken with his teeth and dragged it far enough away that he could stand the smell. After four years of table scraps, it wasn't much worse than he was used to. Holding it with his paws, he dug in and was surprised how easily the chicken came apart in his sharp teeth.

A little while later, Harry found a warm spot to curl up in (unbeknown to him, on the other side of a wall from a poorly-insulated water heater) and went to sleep. It had been a hard start, but he began to think that he would enjoy being a cat more than being a human trapped at the Dursleys' house.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. I'm just hanging out in the Internet's largest sandbox.

A/N: I have five chapters of this story written so far, which I will post as I proofread them. After that, it's down to how fast I can write them. I'm using a British English dictionary, but brit-picking is welcome.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Weeks passed. Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall investigated thoroughly, but found nothing. There was no movement from any known former death eaters. Severus Snape reported that he had heard nothing. Amelia Bones, though she was only partially privy to their information, heard no rumblings of ministry interference, and no whispers seemed to float through any part of the magical underworld. It seemed as if Harry Potter had vanished without a trace.

Harry himself, of course, was oblivious to all of this. He spent his days trying to learn how to be a proper cat. It took some time to figure out all the new smells and tastes. He was a little annoyed that he could no longer see the colour red, and the other colours were strangely muted, but he saw no choice but to accept it. He wandered the streets, often following other cats, dumpster diving for food, and sleeping a lot. After a few days, he found he had wandered out of town. There were few rubbish bins out here, but he could still smell something tasty. He followed the trail just in time to hear some of those high-pitched squeaks and see a mole scamper into its burrow. He immediately backed away and vowed to stick to the rubbish bins (after all, what five-year-old, even a boy, wants to eat live rodents?), but after a couple of days in the country, he realised how hard it was to find food and decided to try again. It took a couple more days before he successfully caught anything and a couple of hours before he could bring himself to eat it, but when he did, he was surprised how good mice tasted. He wondered if they tasted better to a cat or if the humans were just missing out.

He kept wandering from town to town, not really caring where he was going. By November, he had gotten good enough at hunting to get by and had even started cleaning his fur with his tongue, like a real cat (although he hated the hairballs). Hunting was actually fun when he was the hunter instead of the hunted running from Dudley's gang. Harry would never hunt people, though, just small birds and rodents. Yes, he was enjoying life as a cat more than he ever had as human, except for one thing: the nights were growing colder and colder. He didn't want to spend the whole winter outdoors, so he started working up the courage to look for a human who would take him in.

A couple days' searching had netted him a bowl of cream and little bit of liver, but no entry into anyone's house. He was just starting his search again on the third morning, when he noticed a little girl with bushy brown hair reading a book on a bench swing in her backyard. The wind blew in his direction, and he caught a scent from her—a strange scent, but an oddly familiar one. He moved closer to investigate, suddenly feeling something he hadn't felt in weeks and didn't presently know how to accomplish: a desire to actually talk to someone.

* * *

Hermione Granger was the only girl in her Year 1 class who was already into chapter books. Some of them were still learning to read in the first place. The other kids looked at her funny because she was reading books without pictures in them, but she didn't care…much. The stories were just too interesting to stick to the short ones with lots of pictures.

She was thoroughly engrossed in one of her chapter books when she heard a small mewling sound and looked down to see and adorable black and white kitten staring back up at her with the greenest eyes she'd ever seen.

"Hello, there," the little girl said.

The kitten just stared back, then mewled again.

"Would you like to sit with me?" She patted the bench beside her. To her surprise, the kitten leapt onto the bench. Maybe it had been trained. But it didn't have a collar. She idly wondered if her parents would let her get a cat. She reached out to scratch the kitten behind the ears, but it recoiled at her touch.

"Oh, I'm sorry." The cat stepped back and mewled again.

Hermione considered going back to her book, but a live kitten was much more interesting, even if not too sociable. "So…what are you doing here," she asked it.

The kitten took a step forward and gingerly batted at her leg with a paw.

She was sure the kitten was just being silly, but she decided to play along. Not at all expecting a response, she said, "You came to see me?"

The kitten nodded its head.

Hermione's eyes went wide. She leaned down closer, but it backed a step away. "Can you…understand me?" she said.

The kitten nodded again.

"Wow…neat!" she held her hand out as if to shake its paw. "My name's Hermione. What's yours?"

The kitten stared at her for a long moment, cocking its head to one side. Then, something happened that she never expected. In a blink, the kitten grew and changed into a little boy in tattered clothes, sitting on his haunches and staring at her with those same green eyes. Then the boy said, "Harry."

"Ahhhh!" Hermione dropped her book and ran inside the house.

Emma Granger heard her daughter scream and looked up from making lunch just in time to see her dashing through the kitchen door.

"Hermione—?"

"Mummy, Mummy, there's a kitty outside who turned into a boy!"

That probably counted as the strangest thing her daughter had ever said, and there had been some pretty odd occurrences before. "What, did that happen in your book?" Emma asked.

"No, Mummy, he's really there! Come and see!" Her daughter took her by the hand and practically dragged her outside with the same gusto that she usually reserved for the library. Few things would stop her in that state, but the fact that this wasn't book related—not to mention impossible—was a little strange, even with her imagination.

"Hermione, I have to make lunch, and…" Emma tried to pull away, but she stopped short when she passed through the door and saw the small figure squatting on the bench swing. He looked maybe four or five years old, but he was small and thin. Emma's general medicine training from dental school told her he was clearly underweight. Worse, he was dirty, dressed in little more than rags, and shivering in the morning air, as if he had been wandering around outside for days, if not longer. He also had a nasty-looking scar on his forehead and a haunted look in his eyes.

"He said his name's Harry," Hermione said, but it barely registered for either of them.

The boy locked eyes with Emma and bolted across the yard.

"Wait!" she said.

Harry wanted to run, but four years of conditioning to do as he was told combined with the memory that he _did_ want to find someone to help him stopped him. He turned around and waited, trembling at the matching brown-haired woman and young girl who approached him.

"Are your mum and dad near here?" Emma asked.

The boy stared at her, then down at the ground. After a moment, he shook his head sadly.

Well, it was no use waiting ouside, then. "You must be freezing out here. Please come inside; we can get you warmed up."

The boy took a step back and looked between the two of them, seemingly on the verge of taking off again.

"He's scared, Mummy," Hermione said, to her mother's surprise. Emma hated to admit it, but her daughter's social skills were not up to the level of her academics. But now, she approached the boy slowly, unbeknown to Emma still treating him more like a kitten than a boy, and slowly held out her hand again. "It's okay, we won't hurt you…Are you hungry? We were just about to have lunch. Mummy can make you an extra sandwich."

By now, Harry had no idea what was going on. He couldn't remember anyone ever _offering_ him a sandwich. He thought about running again. But this Hermione girl actually seemed nice—just nice enough to give him some hope. He nodded and gave her a weak "mm-hmm" before reaching out and taking her hand.

Emma watched the scene unfold with growing fascination—and worry. The little boy not only looked awful, but he also seemed terrified of her and even nervous about taking the hand of a girl his own age, and it wasn't because of cooties. In her mind, that was a very bad sign.

The fact that Hermione seemed to be instinctively handling him so as not to alarm him, well, that was just unusual.

Emma ran ahead of them to the house and called up the stairs, "Dan, could you get a blanket, please?" She turned around to see the boy standing on the threshold and trembling as Hermione tried to tug on his wrist and bring him into the house. She had, of course, remembered to pick up her book on the way. "It's all right, come on in," Emma said. She tried to offer one of her own hands, but he didn't take it. "This way." She motioned for them to follow and sat them both down on the sofa in the living room.

"Emma, here's the blanket. What's wro—Who's this?" Daniel Granger stopped on the bottom step of the stairs as he saw the dirty, unfamiliar little boy sitting on the sofa. When the boy saw him, he tensed up and started to pull away, turning to one side while keeping his eyes locked on him.

Harry stared warily at the unfamiliar man. He wasn't big and fat like Uncle Vernon, but he was tall and intimidating, and he looked a few years younger with his dark brown hair, and in better shape, too. He didn't look like the kind of person Harry wanted to cross any more than Uncle Vernon did.

"It's okay, it's just my Daddy," Hermione said. "Daddy, this is Harry. He's a cat."

"What?"

Emma took the blanket from him and lowered her voice, saying, "I have no idea, but he needs help. He looks like he's been lost for days, and he seems to be afraid of people." She turned back the the sofa and gently wrapped it around the boy, giving him a light pat on the shoulder. "Better?" she asked.

He didn't answer.

"Just stay there. I'll get you something to eat."

"He needs some milk, Mummy, 'cause he's a cat," her daughter called after her.

Dan sat in the chair opposite the two children. "A cat, Hermione?"

"I saw him. He was a cat, and then he turned into a boy." She looked completely serious. The boy just stared at him.

"And, I think our daughter's finally snapped," he whispered to himself. It was bad enough that time she had a nightmare and, somehow, every light in the house switched on. It had taken him all day to find all of them, including a couple he had forgotten they owned and one that he was sure had burned out. Now, she just seemed to be slipping into her own little fantasy world.

He tried turning his attention to the boy. "So what's your name, son?" he asked.

The boy stared at him and shivered. His voice was barely audible, and he stumbled over the sounds, but he answered, "Harry…sir…" and then after thinking about it a little more, "Harry P-p-potter."

"Pleased to meet you, Harry Potter. My name is Daniel Granger, and I think you've already met my wife, Emma, and my daughter, Hermione."

The boy kept staring. Dan wasn't sure if he was blinking. "P-p-pleased to meet you, sir," he said, as if he did not for a moment believe it.

Dan could see what his wife meant about Harry being lost for days. His looked scared of his shadow, his face was grimy, his hands were scratched up, and he smelled…well, disturbingly like wet fur. Why he had just shown up like that was anyone's guess. Dan hadn't heard of any missing children in Crawley. In fact, there probably would have been a notice for a major case like this anywhere in West Sussex. And the boy didn't look like he would be quick to volunteer information.

Still, Dan tried to make some light conversation. "So, Harry, what are you doing here?" he asked.

Harry turned and stared at Hermione. He held her gaze without speaking until she answered for him: "He wanted to talk to me."

"Oh? Do you know him?"

"No, but he said he wanted to."

"So why did you want to talk to Hermione, Harry? Do you like her?" Dan teased.

"Daddy!"

But the grin was wiped off Dan's face when he saw Harry look down at his bare feet in shame. "I'm sorry, Harry. It was just a joke," he said, trying to make amends.

Harry's gaze shot back up at Dan's face with a look of confusion. He couldn't remember the last time someone had apologised _to him_. Once again, he had no idea what was happening.

Just then, Emma returned from the kitchen with a tray of sandwiches and some drinks, including some milk for the children. She set the tray down on the coffee table and made a point of serving Harry first.

Harry just looked at his plate like he didn't know what to do with it. Even at five years old, he could count four sandwiches and four people, which made some sort of sense, but all of his conditioning told him there must be some sort of mistake.

"Go ahead, eat up," the woman named Emma told him. The other three were already starting in on their sandwiches.

Moving slowly, Harry picked up his sandwich with both hands, waiting for someone to tell him off, but no one did. When he brought it to his mouth, he sprang into motion and started eating as fast as he could. He vaguely noticed that the sandwich tasted much sweeter than he was used to (in fact, he couldn't remember tasting anything sweet in quite a while), but he didn't slow down to pay attention to it.

He also didn't notice Dan and Emma staring at his eating habits with raised eyebrows, nor Hermione watching with a look that changed from amused to vaguely disgusted and back again. But he did finally hear her giggle and say, "You're supposed to chew it, silly." It was the kind of comment that could only come from a dentists' child. Harry flushed beet red with embarrassment and put the sandwich down. He picked up his glass and tried to lap up the milk, causing Hermione to giggle again and both of her parents to snort in surprise. But Harry quickly remembered that glasses were the wrong shape for lapping and took a large gulp the human way, then went back to the food, being careful to take individual bites.

"Um…now, Harry," Dan said, more gently this time, "can you tell us what you wanted to talk to Hermione about?"

Harry set down his sandwich and swallowed. Still looking down at his plate, he said, "I…I smelled something."

"Excuse me?" Hermione said.

He turned to face her. He hesitated before continuing, but it _was_ why he was here: "You smell like me."

"I do not!" the girl scoffed, putting her hands on her hips. "You smell like a cat—and you need a bath, too."

"Hermione, be nice," her mother scolded as Harry just looked back down at his plate. He couldn't smell whatever he had smelled before as a human. He _could_ tell that he still smelled like a cat, but he knew that wasn't it.

What Emma really wanted was to get Harry's story—where he had come from and why he had shown up looking as he did, but she sensed he didn't want to give away a lot of information, so she tried a slightly more roundabout method. Even that was hard, since he hesitated before each answer, half-whispered them, and was reluctant to meet her eyes. "How did you get here, Harry," she asked casually.

"Walked."

"Where do you live."

He seemed to think hard about this one. "Outside."

"Did you live somewhere before you lived outside."

The boy nodded without speaking. Emma backed off from the topic for the moment. "How long did you live outside?"

Harry had to think again. "Long time."

"Were you out there yesterday?"

He nodded without hesitation.

"Were you out there…were you out there all the time since Halloween."

He nodded again. That meant a few days, at least.

She didn't know how well he knew dates, or even would have known under better conditions, but she had a bad feeling where this was going. "Were you…what was…do you remember what the weather was like when you started living outside?"

He thought about it. "Warmer."

"Do you remember when it was?"

Harry started to look uncomfortable as he remembered how his adventure has started. He had no clue what day it was and hadn't bothered counting, but he did know the season was changing, and…school! "I-I don't know…" he stammered. "School had just started."

Hermione gasped, and her parents suppressed a similar response. "You mean you've been living outside since September?" the little girl said.

Harry looked back at her and nodded, very slowly.

"Oh no, that's awful! What happened?" She leaned over and hugged him, but he fought back, crying out, pushing himself away and finally slapping her blindly to escape her grasp.

Both of her parents shot to their feet. They nearly tripped over each other as Emma sought to interpose herself between Harry and her husband. Dan tried to comfort his crying daughter, but Harry was the louder of the pair.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he yelled over and over as he struggled to get away. Around them, the lights began to flicker.

Emma held him as gently as she could by his upper arms. "Harry! Harry, it's okay. Calm down, it's okay." She tried to avoid his kicking feet. "It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you." She held him there, still, sobbing, and then only sniffling, as the lights went back to normal.

"He wasn't being mean to you Hermione. You just scared him," Dan whispered to his daughter, trying to placate her anger. She calmed down too, but she eyed the boy much more warily.

Emma shifted to the sofa, still trying to keep no more contact with the boy than necessary, so he didn't feel she was restraining him too much, but she wrapped the blanket he had thrown off around him again and put an arm around his shoulders. "Now, Harry, we want to help you. If you tell us what's wrong, we can help you try to fix it. Can you tell us why you started living outside?"

She felt his muscles tense up; then they relaxed, and he shivered. Then, this repeated itself, and with a look of determination, he began, haltingly, to speak.

It this case, it was probably a good thing that Harry was so young. Uncle Vernon hadn't _quite_ gotten the message across that he wasn't to talk about his home life. And though he felt ashamed of it, it wasn't to the depth that he would have felt if he were older. So aside from his overall nervousness, he wasn't all that resistant to telling his story.

"I…uh, Uncle Vernon was mad because I didn't stay in my cupboard," he began.

"Your cupboard?" Emma interrupted.

"Yeah…uh…where I sleep," he whispered.

"You slept in a cupboard?" Hermione demanded in surprise.

Both her parents looked at her. "Hermione, go up to your room, please," her father told her with a voice that brokered no argument. "Your Mummy and I have to talk to Harry alone. Reluctantly, she grabbed the rest of her sandwich and her book and started climbing the stairs while her father grabbed a pen and paper and feverishly started writing down notes.

Through tears, and with plenty of coaxing from Emma, Harry explained how his uncle had hit him twice and let his cousin hit him many times, how he was treated by the Dursleys and how they told him to his face that they didn't want him. Given his age, behaviour, and physical state and having worked with kids in difficult circumstances through their practice, they couldn't find any reason to doubt his words. Emma was on the verge of tears herself by the end, while Dan simply looked enraged. With a short word, he stalked off to the kitchen to call the police.

Harry wasn't sure what to make of these grown-ups' reactions. They were sad and angry, but they didn't seem to be sad or angry at _him_. Through the conversation, he had leaned closer to Emma and finally allowed her to hug him. It was a strange feeling. He remembered being hugged by Mrs. Figg twice, his teacher once, and even Aunt Petunia once—a long, long time ago—but none of those felt nearly as warm and comforting as this, especially when Emma began running her fingers through his unkempt hair. He still didn't like being restrained, but for once in his life, he didn't feel actively threatened by the contact.

Emma pulled back and looked him in the eyes and said, "Harry, here's what we're going to do for you. My husband and I are going to help you find a new home so you don't have to live outside anymore, and you don't have to live with your mean aunt and uncle either. If everything you told us is true, I think it will happen soon."

Harry's eyes went wide. No one had ever described Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia as mean—out loud, anyway. And he couldn't believe his ears about the rest of it. He wondered again if this was some kind of cruel trick.

It was a few more minutes before Dan reentered the room. "The police are on the case," he said. "They said a Harry Potter matching his description was reported missing by a family in Surrey seven weeks ago. They're sending someone to the address to investigate, and they're sending a social worker here as soon as one's available. I told them we could watch him for the afternoon.

"That's good. Do you think they'll take action?"

"Are you kidding? If they find half the stuff I told them, those monsters will be hauled right out on their—"

"Dan, language," his wife stopped him. "Hermione, you can come back down, now," she called.

Her daughter bounded back down the stairs and took the seat on the couch next to Harry.

"Hermione, Harry doesn't have anywhere to go right now, so he's going to stay here for the afternoon until someone can come to help him," Emma explained.

"Okay." The girl turned to Harry and asked, "Are you going to turn back into a cat?"

"Hermione, he's not—" Emma was cut off when the doorbell rang. "That _can't_ be the social worker already."

She left the room and opened the front door. Then, she took a step back. Standing there on the threshold was the most bizarre-looking man she had ever seen. He had a long white beard and white hair, both of which descended to his waist. He also wore a large, flowing purple robe with gold stars on it, and a hat that looked like a nightcap.

"Good afternoon, Madam," the man said in a kindly voice, seemingly oblivious to her stare. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. I'm looking for a young boy named Harry Potter. Have you seen him here?"

Emma blinked at the man's strange request and even stranger name. "Are you the social worker?" she asked.

Dumbledore went from serene to confused in an instant. "Um, no, I don't believe so. I am a friend of the boy's family."

"Then you can tell his so-called family to get lost," she spat. "He's not going back there."

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up under the brim of his hat. His fingers tensed on the tip of his wand, in case this should turn hostile. He didn't expect any opposition in a muggle neighbourhood, but it would be a good hideout for unsavoury characters. "I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding, Ms…"

"Granger. Emma Granger, and there most certainly is not. I won't see that boy sent back to that hell house—"

At that moment, she was cut off by two loud shouts from the living room. The first was he husband yelling, "Oh my God—Emma!", and the second, before she could react, was her daughter's triumphant cry of, "See, I told you he was a cat."

Albus Dumbledore heard the shouts and surmised that something magical had just happened, though the most obvious explanation was patently impossible. He followed close on Emma Granger's heels into the living room, where he saw an extremely flustered man backing away from a little girl playing with a black and white kitten on the sofa.

"Dan?" Emma said.

"That…that boy, he just…he turned into a cat!"

"What?" Emma and Dumbledore exclaimed in unison.

At that moment, Hermione looked in their direction and gave a squeal of joy before running straight toward the old man. "Santa Claus!" she yelled, wrapping herself around his legs before her mother pulled her away.

Any other time, and Dumbledore would have laughed at that display. He rarely worked with children young enough to make that mistake, but for now he was too preoccupied with finding Harry. "I'm afraid not, my dear," he told the girl. "My name is Albus Dumbledore." The parents both looked torn between half a dozen different questions, so he decided to try his luck with the girl. "What's this I hear about a cat?"

The girl ran back to the sofa and showed off the kitten. "This is Harry," she said. "He's a kitten who turns into a boy…or a boy who turns into a kitten."

As the parents quickly whispered back and forth to each other, Dumbledore approached the sofa and leaned down close to get a good look at the kitten, which seemed to sniff Hermione's hand, and then his own. It was black with white feet, bright green eyes, and a white mark on its head—a white mark that looked like a lightning bolt.

"Ha—Harry Potter?" he whispered.

The kitten tilted its head as if in thought, then its form rippled and grew and reformed into that of a grimy and frightened-looking little boy with green eyes and a scar on his forehead. Then, the boy said, "Yes, sir."

A scream behind them came from Emma Granger.

"Astounding," Dumbledore said, "an animagus at your age. How did you do that, Harry?"

"I…I don't know, sir," he answered, his mind already reeling at the strange old man who seemed to know more than he did.

"Mister D-D-Dumbledore," Daniel Granger stammered, now pressed against the wall. "What are you doing here, and…how the hell is this possible?"

Dumbledore turned around with a twinkle in his eye as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. "That, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, was magic."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: As awesome as it would be if I were secretly JK Rowling posting alternate versions of her stories online, I am not, nor do I hold any rights to the Potter franchise.

A/N: Fair warning: this story will _not_ feature a Harry/Hermione pairing, for reasons that will soon be obvious. I have a different angle in mind, which I feel has been very under-utilised.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"Magic?" Dan Granger said.

"Yes."

"Magic?" his wife repeated.

"Yes."

"…Okay, I guess that makes more sense than anything else," Dan said, eyeing the ridiculously-dressed old man with unmasked suspicion. "I take it you can also do magic?"

"I can, Mr. Granger. I am a wizard, as is young Harry here, although the ability to change into an animal is not one of my talents."

"Is that why you smell like me, sir?"

All eyes turned to Harry. This was the most he had said unprompted all afternoon.

"What do you mean, Harry?"

Harry pushed himself against the back of the sofa to try to keep his distance from the strange, apparently magical man. Magic certainly explained the cat thing, but, he thought there might be more. "I could smell you…you smelled like me…sir…Hermione smelled like me, too…but I don't smell it now."

"Hmm, I wonder…" Dumbledore muttered to himself. Cats _did_ have a good sense of smell, almost as good as dogs. And there was a reason they were such popular familiars. He turned back around and slowly drew his wand from his sleeve. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, will you permit me to cast a magic detection charm? It is not dangerous. It will simply identify all sources of magic in this room."

The Grangers could see where this is going, even if they didn't want to believe it. Still, their day had gotten weird enough already, and if this magic could turn a boy into a cat, they probably couldn't stop him. Dan looked at his wife, shrugged his shoulders, and then they nodded at Dumbledore.

The old man waved the carved stick in the air and muttered a complex incantation. In a moment, a golden aura surrounded him, a fainter aura surrounded Harry…and another one Hermione.

"Extraordinary," he said. "I must congratulate you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Your daughter is a witch."

Her parents twitched at the strange choice of words, but they said nothing as they processed this information.

"Cool!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Can you turn into a cat, too?" Harry asked her.

"I…I don't think so…"

"No, Miss Granger, I'm afraid not," Dumbledore said. "It normally takes years of training to accomplish. I have never before heard of anyone who can do it naturally like Harry. Harry, I believe that as a cat, you were able to smell Hermione's magic, just as you were able to smell mine. Is that why you came here?"

That actually made sense to Harry. It was a lot to take in, but as he thought about it, it explained everything, all the way back to the blue hair. And the strange smell must have been magic. He nodded to Dumbledore.

"Now wait just a minute," Dan said, finally breaking out of his shock. "How does that even work? How can Hermione be magical if we're not. It must be rare, right?"

"Yes, Mr. Granger," Dumbledore explained. "It is true that magic normally runs in families. However, your daughter is what we call 'muggle-born'—a magical child born to non-magical parents. And yes, it is quite rare, with only a few muggle-born births in England each year. But surely you have noticed unusual things going on around her? Especially when she becomes emotional?"

"Yes…" Emma confirmed. "But then what does that mean?"

"It means that your daughter has an extraordinary gift. And when she reaches the age of eleven, she will be able to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with Harry and other magical children from the British Isles."

"Hogwarts…School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I, myself, am the headmaster."

That raised some eyebrows. Without fully understanding the small size of the wizarding world, muggles were often confused by Albus Dumbledore's many roles, and the present visit was even outside of those.

"Well if that's true, what are you doing here?"

"As I said, I am a friend of Mr. Potter's family—"

Emma's eyes flashed with fire, and a glare came across her husband's face. "And I told you we don't want anything to do with that boy's horrible aunt and uncle," she said.

"Wha—? I apologise, Mrs. Granger. I haven't made myself clear. I meant to say that I was a friend of Mr. Potter's _parents_." The wheels in Dumbledore's mind were spinning at Emma's last comment, but he didn't have time to question her further before he heard a small boy's voice whisper, "You knew my parents?"

All eyes turned back to Harry. Dumbledore absentmindedly conjured a stool and sat down to face him directly, causing everyone else in the room to flinch. "I did, Harry," he said gently. "Your parents were good people, and their loss was a blow to us all."

Harry's eyes were wide in surprise—and confusion. "But…but…but Aunt Petunia said my parents were…" He frowned in concentration, trying to remember the exact words. "They were worthless drunks and died in a car crash."

"What?" Dumbledore exclaimed, rising right off the stool again. "You mean they didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what, sir?"

"Why would they tell him anything?" Emma snapped. "They barely fed him."

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, if you were such a good friend, why didn't you check up on him," Dan added.

"I…"

"They made him sleep in a cupboard, too!" the little girl said. She held Harry's hand, as he had started crying.

"Enough!" A pulse of energy shot out from Dumbledore's wand, forcing everyone to sit down. The Grangers were shocked at this display of power, even as small as it was by wizarding standards. He raised his wand to them, then hesitated, just for a moment. He would rather not do this to yet another family, but there was little choice. He had to find out what happened and assess any risks to the boy. He would glean any useful information from their minds, wipe their memories of the morning, and take Harry back home.

But as he looked from the eyes of one Granger to the next, he was disturbed by what he saw, or rather what Harry had told them. Even knowing what he knew about Petunia Dursley and his contact with her in September, the boy's stories about his relatives were shocking. Was is really _not_ the memory charms that had made them behave so unkindly two months ago? It seemed unbelievable, but he could find no sign of deception or memory charms in the Grangers' minds, and even their daughter had heard some of it. What kind of people could do that to their own nephew?

With growing trepidation, he looked into Harry's mind. It was a serious risk, since any legilimency contact risked Dumbledore's own secrets, but if things had gotten this bad, he had to know, and he was dismayed to find that they had. He searched for the night Harry had left the Dursleys', and the pieces fell into place: the mistreatment at home, the two beatings, the accidental magic (it must have been Ministry Obliviators who had covered it up), and coming to as a cat and running away. He would have to have a long talk with those people.

"It would appear that there are certain issues with young Mr. Potter's home life that need to be remedied," he said, with his hosts silently seething at the profundity of his understatement. "While there is undoubtedly friction within the family, and they may perhaps have been inadequately monitored, I'm sure that…a review of his living conditions there will…"

He stopped as his train of logic unravelled, and a horrifying thought came to him. If love was indeed the power Voldemort knew not, as he suspected, he may well have put the whole game in jeopardy by placing Harry in such a loveless environment. A talk would make his relatives treat him decently, but it wouldn't cure that sickness. He would have to take more drastic—No!

No, that was something he could not do. Dumbledore sat down on the stool again, his self-confidence shaken. Had he really become the manipulative one after all these years? Just by asking the question, he knew it was a step too far. Compulsion charms and mind-altering potions to keep the boy under that roof were Gellert's way of doing things. He would have to make a new plan to keep the boy safe, and quickly. Until then, he supposed the Grangers seemed like as good of people as any to babysit…at least for the time being…well, he could still obliviate them later, even if the spell was suddenly starting to sour on him.

He cast a mild Confundus Charm to cover up the fact that he had been staring at them for over a minute and had started talking down the wrong line of thought, then he began to speak again: "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I do not often make mistakes, but I fear that I have made a very grave one with regards to Mr. Potter. I feel that to explain, I must start at the beginning. It is a very dark tale that I would rather not dredge up, but since it concerns his family, I suppose he deserves to hear at least a little of what happened."

_Darker than dying in a drunken car crash?_ The Grangers wondered. Dan looked at Harry, then at Hermione, then back at Harry. "Go on," he said cautiously.

Dumbledore now looked at the boy and told him, in terms he hoped the five-year-old could understand, "Harry, I'm so sorry that you had to hear it this way, and from a stranger, but your parents did _not_ die in a car crash…they were both killed by a very bad wizard." Both of the children gasped. "That wizard's name was Voldemort, and he had already killed many people. Your parents had fought against him, along with myself and many of their friends, and because of that, Voldemort decided to kill your entire family…even you, Harry."

"What!" Dan and Emma exclaimed. Hermione let out a loud "Eep!" and grabbed Harry's hand again.

"Wha—what happened, sir?" Harry whispered through a grimace of fear.

"He vanished. Even his own followers didn't know what happened to him. Most people now believe he is dead. No one knows for sure how you survived, Harry. I can only guess that it was your mother's love for you when she died protecting you—love is the most powerful magic there is and may well have saved you from Voldemort's curse. It was the curse that Voldemort cast that gave you that scar."

Harry's eyes widened further, and he slowly traced the mark on his forehead with a finger.

"But even after Voldemort vanished, you were still in danger because his followers might have come after you for revenge. As your parents' most trusted remaining friend, it was my duty to protect you. Your mother's only living relatives were your aunt and cousin. I gave you to them because there are very powerful magical protections that I was able to use to keep you safe if you were living with a blood relative. As long as you lived at your aunt's house, no one who meant you harm could enter it."

"It didn't work," Dan snapped. "Certainly didn't protect him from the people who were already there."

"No," Dumbledore said, hanging his head. "I confess that I never considered the possibility. From what you have said, I begin to see my error. Yet I _did_ have someone keeping an eye on the boy…Harry, do you know Arabella Figg?"

"Mrs. Figg…? She's mean." Harry surprised himself by working up the courage to say that out loud. He was worried how the strange man would react, but he just raised a single eyebrow.

Dumbledore added questioning Arabella to his mental to-do list. In any case, it seemed she had failed to see the warning signs. Perhaps he should have found a squib with children to watch him. He was about to respond the Grangers' remaining accusations when the doorbell rang.

Emma blinked her eyes slowly and said, "That'll be the social worker." She rose to answer it.

"Mrs. Granger," Dumbledore called. She looked back at him. "I must urge you not to make any mention of magic to the non-magical authorities."

Emma shot another glare at him and said, "We'll see."

"Yeah, like the outfit's not a dead giveaway," Dan said.

Dumbledore considered this and drew his wand. In a few seconds, he had transfigured his robes into a muggle business suit.

Dan flinched again. "Do you do that all the time?" he said.

"Only when it's called for," the old man answered as he used a quick charm to pull his long hair back into a braid, though he left his beard alone, and he moved his stool next to Dan's chair. Hermione's eyes widened with interest at the hair-styling spell. The suit was an improvement, but Dan thought he looked ridiculous enough with the beard.

Emma led the social worker, an older, matronly woman carrying a sheaf of papers into the room, saying "Yes, Ms. Wilkins, he's just in here—" before she stopped short at seeing the old man's new look.

"Mr. Granger, Miss Granger, I presume, and Mr. Potter," she nodded to each of them in turn, then turned turned her attention to Dumbledore. "And you are…?"

He rose and shook the social worker's hand. A quick look with legilimency (and he was starting to wonder about _that_ spell, too), and he crafted a story that he hoped the woman would find believable. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, Madam. I was Mr. Potter's caseworker when he was first placed. I was lucky enough to be in the neighbourhood when the office informed me he had been found, so I came here to look into the matter for myself."

"Dumbledore?" the woman said. She'd never heard of anyone with that name before, in or out of the office, not to mention the fact that she wasn't expecting him. "Do you have documentation of the event?" She didn't notice the Grangers staring at how easily Dumbledore fell into the role.

He placed his hand inside his jacket and touched his fingers to the tip of his wand to conjure and appropriate-looking business card and muggle custody documents. Luckily, the woman had a clear picture in her mind of what to expect. He handed them over, and the woman looked them over sceptically, but seemed to accept them. "Very well, Mr…Dumbledore," she said, then to all the adults, "Would it be possible to speak with the three of you for a few minutes without the children present?"

Emma turned to her daughter and said, "Hermione, could you take Harry up to your room please?" The girl clearly wanted to stay and listen, but she reluctantly nodded and led Harry up the stairs by the hand.

Dan snickered in spite of himself. When he saw his wife give him a look, he said, "You just _told_ our daughter to take a boy into her room."

She rolled her eyes at him. "She's six, Dan. Now, Ms. Wilkins," she address the social worker, "what's going on, exactly?"

Ms. Wilkins checked her notes and began to speak, shooting a slight cross look at Dumbledore: "I can report to you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger that Vernon and Petunia Dursley, Harry Potter's guardians, have been arrested for child abuse and neglect. The investigation is still ongoing, but the police found a bed set up in the cupboard under the stairs. There were some bloodstains in the cupboard, and what appear to be the words "Harry's Room" were scribbled on the wall. It appears that only two of the bedrooms in the house were being used for sleeping, even though it's a four-bedroom house. The Dursleys' son has been put into protective custody. Apparently, he is significantly _over_weight." Like the Grangers, she had immediately noticed how small Harry looked.

"The Dursleys claimed to be 'very concerned because their nephew ran away', but they also expressed displeasure with having to support him. I don't know anything definite, but I suspect that they'll willingly give him up to the foster care system," she concluded.

Dumbledore was silent as he took this all in. It seemed the environment he had placed the boy was indeed as bad his memory had shown. Oh, why hadn't he listened to Minerva four years ago? No, for the boy to go back there would to more harm than good, if he could make it happen at all. But to send Harry into the foster care system would still be disastrous. He remembered another boy who had been deeply hurt by the system many years ago. He would have to find a permanent home for the boy, one with both a loving family and a house that could be protected, and he would have to convince the muggle authorities to go along with it. He could think of a few families whom he trusted and would be glad to take him. Unfortunately, they were all in the wizarding world, but he had few options left on that point.

He was snapped out of his musings when, to his surprise, Ms. Wilkins addressed him directly: "Mr. Dumbledore, can you tell me what happened with the boy's initial placement?"

Dumbledore sighed. Hopefully, his explanation would not cause too much trouble. "Harry Potter's parents were…killed in a terrorist attack when he was fifteen months old. The Dursleys were his only living relatives, and I thought it would be best for him if they would take him in. I'll admit that there were a few concerns with the placement, but there was nothing serious enough to contraindicate it. I now fear that I made a grave mistake in my actions."

"There should have been at least one follow-up visit a year later," Ms. Wilkins continued with an edge of suspicion. "What happened then?"

"There was." Well, it was almost true, he thought, since Arabella _had_ visited once or twice. "Again, there were no serious concerns raised."

"Hmm…" She turned back to the Grangers. "And the boy claimed he had only been beaten recently?"

"By his uncle," Dan clarified. "Apparently, he got in several fights with his cousin. But he had been in that cupboard for as long as he could remember."

"I see." She had been writing everything down on her notepad as they talked and going over a checklist. "Now, Harry Potter was reported missing by Vernon Dursley on the evening of Friday, 13 September. Did he give any indication of where he's been for the past seven weeks?"

"He claimed he's been living on the streets," Emma said. Seeing him in cat form made that make a lot more sense, but she realised that Dumbledore was right—she could never get away with saying that. "I'm surprised he looks that good after this much time. He didn't exactly say it, but I think he's been eating out of rubbish bins." _Or catching mice? _she wondered, suppressing a shudder at the thought.

"He should be checked out by a doctor immediately," Ms. Wilkins ordered. "He's lucky he didn't freeze to death with the nights we've been having. You two are dentists?" They nodded. "He'll need his teeth checked, and I'll bet he's never been to an eye doctor, either…Not that you need to have any further involvement, of course, I was going to take him to a group home this afternoon so he can get checked over on Monday."

Dan and Emma shared a long, questioning look, but Dumbledore didn't notice, as he chose that moment to spring into action. "Ms. Wilkins," he said, "after what's happened, I think it would be best for the boy to find him a permanent placement _quickly_. I do have a couple of leads on that front—more distant acquaintances of his parents—and I can assure you they will be _thoroughly _vetted this time."

The woman eyed him with suspicion. This wasn't going to be easy. "If you file the appropriate paperwork, I will certainly take your recommendations under advisement, Mr. Dumbledore," she said.

Ms. Wilkins asked a few more questions about how the Grangers met Harry that morning, "just for the official report", which they handled surprisingly well, and about what Harry had told them, before asking them to call the kids back down.

"I'll go get them," Emma said before anyone else could say anything.

The door to Hermione's room was open, though neither child noticed when Emma walked in. To her surprise, Hermione and Harry were engaged in a simple board game rather than reading books, although she immediately had to wonder if Harry could even read. On the other hand, could he even play board games? Hermione was clearly wiping the proverbial floor with him.

"Kids…" They both looked up at her. "Ms. Wilkins is done talking to us, and now she wants to talk to Harry. She probably have a few questions for you, too, Hermione." She leaned down to get closer to Harry's face. "Harry, the woman downstairs is going to ask you some questions about how your relatives treated you and about your time living outside. She might want to talk to you alone, but it's okay. She's not going to hurt you. Just tell the truth about your relatives. You won't have to go back to them anytime soon, and probably not at all, so you can tell her everything about them…but…but don't tell her about magic or about being a cat because…well, she won't believe you. We're going to talk about that some more, but it'll be later, with Mr. Dumbledore. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered a little too easily. She remembered that he had mentioned something about having to act "normal" with his relatives.

With a nod, Emma escorted the children back downstairs.

Ms. Wilkins questioned Hermione first, asking her about her encounter with Harry that morning, and what they had talked about since. She answered these questions quite sensibly under the watchful eyes of her parents. The woman then asked Harry just a couple of questions before asking him to join her in the kitchen.

Dan and Emma took that as their cue, nodded to each other, and stood up. "Harry, Mr. Granger and I are going upstairs to talk on our own," Emma said, her eyes darting toward Dumbledore, who now sat quietly reading a magazine. "When you're done, Ms. Wilkins can call up the stairs for us if we're not back, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Come along, Hermione," she added, not wanting to leave her daughter alone with the old man. The Grangers climbed the stairs, but split off to their separate bedrooms.

Albus Dumbledore sat quietly, definitely _not_ reading the magazine in his hands. He kept going over what had happened over the past couple of hours in his mind. He was certainly relieved to find the boy safe, but horrified at the circumstances that had brought him here, and amazed at the determination of the Grangers to help him, even after they were thrown headfirst into the deep end of the magical world. Looking ahead, he would have to report that he had found the boy—and how he dreaded facing Minerva when he returned to school—and find a new home for him, probably doing some work to expedite the process on the muggle side.

He only half-listened to the eavesdropping charm he had silently cast on Harry. That wasn't _technically_ improper, since he _was_ the boy's magical guardian, although he would be sure to keep that to himself if the matter came up. Ms. Wilkins was going in detail through all of the incidents of abuse that Harry could remember. He answered with surprising calm, and the social worker skillfully redirected him whenever he seemed on the verge of breaking down. The questioning went on for quite a while, and the Grangers came back downstairs before it was over, though they looked oddly subdued.

Finally, it was finished, and Ms. Wilkins came out of the kitchen with a visibly shaken Harry, who sat down next to Hermione on the sofa and shivered slightly. The woman stood in the middle of the room and addressed the group. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I want to thank you for reporting this to us today. I know you've done Harry here a great service. What's going to happen now is that I'll take him to a group home for the weekend pending a longer-term placement. In the unlikely event that his relatives challenge the loss of their custody rights, you may be called upon as witnesses, and in the much more likely event that they go to trial, you may be called in for that as well. Mr. Dumbledore, could you mail your paperwork on Harry to me? I'll contact you if I need a formal statement from you."

Dumbledore nodded, relieved that she didn't start asking questions he couldn't answer. This at least gave him time to put together something realistic for the muggle authorities.

"Good. Now, if there's nothing else, we'll take our leave of you. Thank you for your time."

"Actually, Ms. Wilkins," Emma cut her off, "we could take Harry in here until Monday."

The woman turned back to her in surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mrs. Granger," she said, "but even for a short-term placement, you need to be licensed."

"Oh, but we are licensed," Dan said as he stood and stepped over to the desk and started filing through papers. "We got licensed a couple years ago, but nothing ever came of it. It should still be good…ah, here it is." He handed the papers over.

Ms. Wilkins looked them over and saw that the foster care license was, indeed, up to date. She was pleasantly surprised by this turn of events. This would certainly make her day one step easier, and it would probably be better for the boy, too. She opened her own sheaf of papers and pulled out the correct form. She quickly filled it out with Harry's name and information. "That's very generous of you," she said, handing over the form. "If you're both sure, just sign here." When she took the form back, she turned to Harry and said, "Harry, you'll be staying with Mr. and Mrs. Granger for the weekend. I'll visit you on Monday, and we'll figure out where you're going to go then."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said, with a voice that showed neither happiness nor disappointment. He was in a daze by now from all of the strange revelations and all of the questions about his aunt and uncle. He was certainly happy about not having to go back there and about being able to stay with what seemed to be very nice people, but he was far too used to hiding his happiness for fear that it would cause trouble.

Turning to the Grangers one last time, Ms. Wilkins said, "Thank you very much. And do try to clean the boy up, find him some decent clothes, and get him a hot meal. I don't think he's had any of those things in a long time. Good afternoon."

As soon as the woman left, Dumbledore drew his wand and reverted his clothes back to their "normal" appearance.

Emma's mouth hung open for a few seconds as she vacillated between several questions. She settled on, "Why on earth do you dress like that Mr. Dumbledore?" Her daughter giggled.

Looking slightly miffed, the old man answered, "I've always thought bright colours looked rather stylish."

Emma just shook her head at the comment, while Dan took Dumbledore to task: "I'm sure you can guess that we still have a lot of questions, and not just about Harry, but right now, it looks like we have some shopping to do. Is there any chance you could come back later, say in two or three hours?"

Dumbledore was reluctant to involve a muggle family deeper in the magical world so long before their own daughter would be going to Hogwarts, but they _were_ taking Harry in for the weekend—and probably a good thing for him at that, he thought as well. He could report back to the castle and return here later with no trouble.

"Mr. Granger," he said with a somewhat forced smile, "for Harry Potter, I will happily clear my schedule. I will report to the other witches and wizards who are searching for Harry that he has been found and return here in three hours' time."

"Will we be approached by anyone else?" Dan asked.

"I will instruct them not to do so. Harry, I am very glad to find you safe here. We will speak again later. Good afternoon." With a loud crack, Albus Dumbledore vanished into thin air.

"Whoa!" Dan and Emma exclaimed.

"You don't think he's going to just pop back here…right here?" Emma said.

"If he does, I'll have to teach him some manners. It was bad enough just showing up like that unannounced. Come on, we've got three hours. Let's get Harry cleaned up."

* * *

Albus apparated to the gates of Hogwarts and quickly made his way into the castle and up to his office, being sure to send for Minerva along the way. It was probably best to get this out of the way immediately.

Minerva McGonagall arrived in the Headmaster's Office a few minutes later, and she was most disturbed by the look on his face. It was that weary and dejected look that always meant that something had gone horribly wrong. A dozen frightening scenarios flashed through her mind before she could even get a word out. "Albus, what's wrong?" she exclaimed. "Did you find the boy? Is he alright?"

Albus looked up to face her, but did not rise from his seat. "Minerva, I did, indeed, find Harry Potter, and he is, for the moment, safe. But I am afraid that I owe you a great apology."

"For what, Albus," she said, more relieved at the news than anything else.

"I should have listened to you four years ago. You were entirely correct. Harry should never have been left with his aunt and uncle."

Her relief turned to anger as she wheeled on the Headmaster, drawing herself to her full height and staring over the rims of her spectacles at him. "And you're just figuring this out now? It should have been plain to see on that very night. What did those horrid people do to the boy?"

"Nothing irreversible, I believe, but we are immensely fortunate that he escaped when he did. For a muggle family, I was most shocked at how much they treated young Harry like a House Elf?"

"House Elf? Escaped?" Minerva finally sat down. "Albus, I think you had better explain the whole story."

As Albus explained how the muggles had treated their own nephew, Minerva's blood began to boil. She actually caught herself growling. She had half a mind to fly down to Little Whinging and hex them herself until she was placated by the news that they had been arrested by the muggle authorities.

"Well, it seems you have well and truly blundered on this one, Albus. You're very lucky that your mistake is being fixed. But none of this explains why you couldn't find the boy for seven weeks."

Inexplicably, a small smile crossed the Headmaster's face, and the twinkle returned to his eyes. "Ah, now that is the interesting part," he said. "I was quite baffled by how he could disappear and reappear like that, but it seems I overlooked a certain method of hiding when I cast the tracking charm."

"What method of hiding? Where has the boy been?"

"It would appear that Harry Potter has spent the past seven weeks roaming the streets of England…as a cat."

"A cat!"

"I saw him transform with my own eyes, Minerva. A black kitten with green eyes, white feet, and a white lightning bolt-shaped mark on his head. He is an animagus already, and he apparently achieved this purely by accidental magic. It is how he escaped from his uncle's home."

Minerva was speechless. She considered what this might mean—everything she knew about the animagus transformation—but nothing even hinted at such a strong a childhood or inborn aptitude for it. "I've never hear of such a thing," she concluded. "It should be impossible."

"So should surviving the killing curse," Albus said solemnly. _Could _this _be the power Voldemort knows not?_ he wondered. _Could I have been wrong about that as well?_ Not for the first time, nor the last, he considered confiding the prophecy to Minerva, but he again decided against it. The fewer people who knew _that_ tidbit, the better. "I am beginning to suspect that normal concepts of what is possible do not apply to Harry Potter. But I do not think this news should be mentioned to anyone. Even Severus, I think, has no particular need to know about it."

Minerva nodded at that. She had never told Severus or his rivals that she knew about that little incident in their sixth year or about the Marauders' animagus abilities, and she knew this was the kind of news Severus would not take well.

"Harry reappeared this morning because he happened upon a muggle-born witch about his age and apparently untransformed to talk to her," he continued. "I met him with her family. He claimed he could smell her magic as well as mine when I met him. Do you know anything about that?"

Now _that_ was something she could answer. "Of course. Cats are very good at sensing magic. I believe they are better at it than any other non-magical animal because all cats have at least a little kneazle blood in them. It's why they are such popular familiars. It is a very useful ability to have, although I have rarely had need of it."

"Ah, that solves one puzzle, then. I will, of course, modify my tracking charm to follow the boy in his cat form."

Minerva had once questioned putting a second tracking charm on the boy in addition to the Ministry Trace, but the events of the past two months had convinced her of its necessity. Despite his mistakes, Albus usually knew what he was doing. "What will happen to the boy now?" she asked.

"The muggle social worker wished to move Harry into foster care, which I cannot allow. While it would be a great improvement, I fear it will not be enough to repair the damage. The boy will need a permanent family, and soon—most likely a wizarding family so that we can be certain he will be cared for properly. Andromeda Tonks is his second cousin, and she and her husband would probably be willing to take him in. Failing that, perhaps the Diggorys or the Weasleys would be interested."

Harry Potter in the chaos that was the Weasley household? Now that would be…interesting.

"I was lucky enough that the muggle family who found him was willing to keep him for the weekend. I will be speaking to them further in a couple of hours. Ah, once the boy is placed with a family, Minerva, I can arrange for you to meet with him about him animagus ability."

"Yes…thank you, Albus. I think that would be most helpful." And it would give her a good way to keep an eye on the boy herself from now on.

"Very good, Minerva, that is all I require of you for now. I must go inform Severus that the boy has been found."

"Of course." As she left, she wondered whether the potions master would be more relieved or annoyed at the news.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (or anybody else in this story).

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Harry's afternoon was a whirlwind tour of new experiences. Mrs. Granger started by giving him a bath. He was uncomfortable with her washing him apart from his time as a cat—while Aunt Petunia had done it until he was old enough, she was never gentle about it—but Emma knew that a boy his age should not be left in the bath alone. After that, they piled in the car and went to the store. Harry had barely even seen the inside of a department store before, and he had certainly never had anyone buy _him_ clothes, but they didn't leave until they had three complete sets of clothes for him and a new pair of trainers. Back at their house, he changed out of Dudley's oversize castoffs and was amazed at how comfortable his new outfit was now that he was wearing something his size.

The bewilderment continued as the Grangers allowed him to sit on the sofa and watch television with them until Mr. Dumbledore returned. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never did. The Grangers really did seem to be nice people—not just nice like Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were to Dudley, but nice in a way that he had never personally seen and barely heard about from his limited exposure to people outside his family. It would take him quite some time before he understood that it was simply because they were a normal family—more "normal", in fact, than the oh-so-proud Dursleys. For now, he was too busy trying to process all of the changes in his life. He was almost tempted to change back into a cat so things would be simpler—almost. The warm house was definitely better on that point.

Exactly three hours after Albus Dumbledore had vanished from their living room, the doorbell rang. Dan rose to answer it, while Emma picked up the notebook that she had been writing questions in all afternoon.

"Thank you for coming back, Mr. Dumbledore," Dan said coolly when he saw their visitor return in the same absurd robes.

"Of course, Mr. Granger. How is young Harry doing?"

"Much better now that he's cleaned up and in some proper clothes. But if you don't mind, my wife and I would like to speak with you privately before you talk to him."

Dumbledore suppressed a sigh. It was clear that the Grangers weren't about to give him any slack. Oh well, it was too late to go back now, and besides, they were _supposed_ to be on the same side here. He nodded to them and let them lead the way.

Emma told the children to go upstairs again, something that Hermione was starting to get annoyed with, but instead of occupying the living room, they escorted Dumbledore to the kitchen. He watched as they took their seats: the two of them sitting opposite him across the kitchen table, clearly trying to assert themselves in the position of power. He also noticed that Emma had a muggle notebook open with a substantial list of questions written down one page.

"Alright, first things first," Dan said, leaving no doubt that there would be a lot more "things" to come. "What are your intentions toward Harry." Emma suppressed a chuckle at this, but refrained from pointing out that he was supposed to ask that about Hermione. "You said you had some ideas about where to put him. You'll forgive us if we don't trust your judgement just yet."

"That's quite understandable." Dumbledore wasn't use to being put in the position of being interrogated, but today had been quite the humbling experience. "I can tell you that I wish to place Harry with a wizarding family. The several families I have in mind for consideration are friends and acquaintances of mine, with children of their own who are treated well, and any one of them would be glad to take Harry."

"That's all well and good that they're your friends. But we've seen how wrong you've been before. How certain are you that they would do well with an adopted child?"

"Mr. Granger, I can assure you that almost any wizarding family in the country would jump at the chance to adopt Harry, and if anything, they would probably spoil him."

"What makes you so sure of that?" Emma said.

"Because Harry Potter is quite possibly the most famous person in all of magical Britain." Dumbledore himself being the other contended, but that was irrelevant here.

Dan and Emma blinked a couple times at that, not sure how to respond. "Famous…? How's that?"

"In our world, Harry is hailed as the Boy-Who-Lived. He is considered a hero for defeating Voldemort, even though he was not the one who did it. There are Harry Potter dolls sold in wizarding stores, and a rather successful children's book series written about him, which of course are complete fabrications."

"Are you having one over on us?" Dan said. "The boy's five. According to you, he hasn't been seen in 'your world' since he was one. Are wizards really that messed up, or is this some kind of insane prank."

"I wish it were, Mr. Granger," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "I'm afraid it was inevitable given the euphoria caused by the end of the war. I had hoped that having the boy raised in the muggle world, that is, the non-magical world, would keep him grounded. Unfortunately, that plan has backfired."

"So now you send him off with no real support into a world where he's already famous that he also knows nothing about?"

"As I said, there are families in our world whom I trust to handle young Harry appropriately. In fact, he has a second cousin on his father's side who would be quite suitable. And in the magical world, I will be able to check on the boy regularly to ensure he is not having any trouble adjusting."

"Like you could _and should_ have been doing for him already?" Emma shot back.

He dropped his gaze, saying, "I admit that I have been leaving too much to chance. Unfortunately, the Dursleys were the only serious non-magical option. There are few families who know of us outside our world."

Both Grangers gave the old man a stern look, but Emma said, "Fair enough…for now."

Her husband took up the next question: "Now, if our daughter is going to be a part of your magical world someday—which we are still trying to wrap our heads around—then we want to know more about it. Tell us about this V…Vol…"

"Voldemort?"

"Yes, the terrorist. He sounded like a pretty bad guy. Is he still a threat."

"I assure you that Voldemort is nothing to be concerned about."

"Please don't patronise us, Mr. Dumbledore," Dan said. "You said _most people_ believe he's dead. I don't think you believe that."

He should have know the evasive approach wouldn't work with this pair. Muggle healers were very well-educated and trained to be inquisitive. "No," he answered, his face grim, "Voldemort has not been seen since that night, but I believe that what happened four years ago only weakened him. It must have nearly killed him, and it certainly permanently incapacitated him, or he would have been seen afterwards, but even so, there are dark rituals by which he could return to his former power."

Dan took the next obvious step, "And you believe that if he does, he'll come after Harry for revenge?"

"I am certain of it. The one thing Voldemort could never tolerate was being bested." It was true enough, if not complete.

"But a five-year-old boy?" Emma said.

"Age matters nothing to him, I'm afraid. He attacked a one-year-old child for revenge and to prevent revenge from one day being taken again himself. He will not tolerate loose ends. It is simply not in his nature. But that is if he finds a way to return, which could take years or longer, if it happens at all."

They didn't look persuaded by his words. "And his followers that you mentioned? You said they wanted revenge, too?"

"Yes, though the threat from them is less, now. Most of them were captured and sent to Azkaban Prison. Unfortunately, there are those who escaped by bribes and claiming to be under mind-control spells who are still at large. But with no attacks in four years, I suspect they do not wish to risk their political power on the chance that their Master might someday return."

"Political power? You mean there are known terrorists in your government!" Dan yelled. "How the hell can you allow that?" He started to rise from the table, but his wife put a hand on his arm to calm him down, though, she was furiously taking notes on these latest revelations.

Dumbledore shuddered inwardly at the (sadly true) accusation. After so many years in the Wizengamot, he sometimes forgot how different wizarding and muggle politics were. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I do not wish to burden your family with the past—"

"It doesn't sound like the past to me," Emma interrupted, "and we're going to learn about it sooner or later. You can't stop Hermione from reading history books."

"You can't stop Hermione from reading _any_ books," Dan added.

"This is apparently our world, too, whether we like it or not," Emma continued. "Isn't it better if we know now?"

"Very well," the old man said solemnly. He supposed they _would_ have to learn it sooner or later. "Please understand that what you call terrorism, to us was considered a civil war." Both Grangers' eyebrows shot up at that, but they said nothing. "There is a small, but vocal minority in our society who believe that purity of magical blood is of paramount importance. In their estimation people descended from old magical families are superior to muggle-born witches and wizards…like your daughter…and to a lesser degree superior to half-bloods—people who have only parent with magical heritage. Even so, both Harry and I are half-bloods and are very competent wizards. And beyond that, educational records show that pureblood wizards are no more competent than any others. The prejudice persists, however, because those who hold it can claim to be purebloods themselves, descended from old, wealthy, and politically influential magical families."

Emma kept jotting down notes, but they still didn't interrupt.

"In the 1960s, a fanatical wizard who styled himself 'Lord Voldemort' began recruiting followers from among the pureblood supremacists. Voldemort believed that muggle-born witches and wizards should not only be treated as inferior, but actually killed." As children of parents who had lived through World War II, Dan and Emma shuddered at that statement. "His followers were called Death Eaters, and among them—though they deny it in the official record—were two of the wealthiest of the fifty lords and ladies of the Wizengamot—our Parliament—and a number of other Ministry officials. Voldemort was known to be involved with dark magic, but he was not considered a serious threat at the time, which allowed him to build up his forces.

"In 1970, however, the Death Eaters began overtly attacking various targets they opposed, such as businesses run by muggle-borns. They continued recruiting, and the violence spread. They attacked purebloods who associated too closely with muggle-borns, whom they condemned as 'blood traitors', and they also attacked muggle targets. Most of the recorded terrorist attacks in the island of Britain from 1970 to 1981 were actually Death Eater-initiated. The Death Eaters wore masks to conceal their identities, so with many accusations flying after the war and and so little proof, the more influential individuals sadly escaped prosecution afterwards. The condition of our government at the time did not help."

"What do you mean?" Dan said.

"By 1980, the situation had descended into outright civil war. At his height, Voldmort, had amassed an army of hundreds and launched into a reign of terror that threatened the Ministry of Magic itself and threatened to spill over onto the Continent."

"Wait a minute, and army of a few hundred threatened your government?" Dan snapped out of his wide-eyed horror. "Just how many wizards are there?"

"The population of magical Britain is a little less than ten thousand."

Dan had to reevaluate his vision of the magical world. If ten thousand wizards were a country, then there were probably only about a million of them in the world. And in a nation that small, a police force and a mid-size terrorist group were armies. Counter-terrorism efforts were a civil war. A few hundred bad actors were an existential threat. And one magical school for the whole of the Britain Isles, no matter how necessary the arrangement, gave him an uneasy feeling of putting all of one's eggs in the same basket.

"So your nation was on the verge of being taken over…" He put the pieces together, hands clenching into firsts as he realised Hermione had already been born at that point. "And a genocide of…muggle-borns would have been the next step…but then Voldemort tried to kill Harry and was defeated. That's how bad it was?"

"Yes, Mr. Granger, I'm afraid that's exactly how bad it was."

"And if he comes back?" Emma asked in a whisper.

"Through his philosophy, even if not overtly, he is still powerful and influential. Unfortunately, the same thing is likely to happen again unless he is stopped quickly."

"Could we escape him, then? Flee the country? Or do all wizards have the same problems?" Dan said quickly.

"Unless Magical Britain should fall, yes, most other countries will be safe. With the exception of Magical Scandinavia, no other First World countries have been under the influence of dark rulers for many years. You and your family could escape to almost anywhere you please."

Emma then asked the final question on the matter, the one she had hoped she wouldn't have to: "But Harry can't?"

Dumbledore's breath caught in his throat as he considered the possible implications of her asking that question. _Could they be considering—?_ he thought. It would be a most fortunate break for him. Unfortunately, the answer would probably render it moot. "No," he answered honestly. "As I said, Voldemort cannot accept defeat. If he returns, he will pursue Harry Potter to the ends of the earth."

* * *

The questions continued for a long time afterwards. There were a lot about Hogwarts and the alternatives to Hogwarts, since it seemed Hermione would need some kind of magical education. This led to even more questions about things like the glaring gaps in muggle courses in Hogwarts's curriculum and the reasons why muggle-borns weren't normally contacted until age eleven. The Grangers also asked how the magical world was set up, and Dumbledore explained the statute of secrecy to them at length, among other things, and they grudgingly admitted that it was probably a good idea. Finally, they had quite a few questions about what magic could do, which Dumbledore could tell were subtle ways of asking just what magic was good for aside from being murdered by a maniac.

The fact that with her magical constitution and magical medicine, Hermione could possibly live to 150 _was_ a definite plus, but they clearly weren't sold on what country she should live out those years in. By the end of the conversation, Emma had pages and pages of notes, and Dumbledore's voice was becoming hoarse. It was approaching dinner time.

"Mr. Dumbledore, thank you for your patience and honesty," Dan concluded when they rose from the table, offering his hand to shake for the first time. "We really appreciate you being so forthwith with us."

Dumbledore shook both Grangers' hands. He was pleased that he seemed to have brought them around on magic in general despite having to tell them so many of the uncomfortable truths of the wizarding world. Even parents of school-aged muggle-borns rarely learnt as much, or reacted as well. It made him wonder again about their own intentions regarding Harry. It was tempting—oh so tempting—to exert a little influence of his own, but he forced himself to let them make any such decision on their own.

"I'm glad that we could discuss these matters civilly," he replied. "Now, I really must speak with Harry, but given the time, I will endeavour to keep the questions short. You may certainly join us if you wish."

"I think we will at that." Dan was still keeping the old man on a short leash.

The moved back to the living room, and Emma called the kids downstairs. She noted that Harry always seemed to be first when she called, being very quick to obey orders.

"How was your afternoon, you two?" she asked.

Hermione certainly didn't look as happy as she had hoped about having another child her age in the house, but her concerns were clarified when her daughter said, "Harry's not very good at games, Mummy."

Harry dropped his head and mumbled something about his cousin always wanting to win.

"Um, well that's okay, honey. He can learn and get better. Come along now. Mr. Dumbledore wants to talk to you, Harry."

"Yes, ma'am."

Harry sat very still on the sofa with his hands clasped in front of him. By now, Dan and Emma noticed his slight squint and hoped he would be able to get to an eye doctor soon.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, putting on his best grandfatherly face, "I want to apologise to you for what you have suffered for the past four years. I was wrong to leave you with your aunt and uncle, and I will do as much as I can to fix it. I hope that, in time, you can forgive me for my error."

Harry stared at the old man, unblinking. Forgiveness, in any direction, was not something that was well-taught in the Dursley household. More so than at any other point that day, Harry knew neither what he wanted to say in response, nor what he was "supposed" to say. Luckily, Dumbledore just glossed over the point and moved on.

"On Monday, I am going to try to find a family to take care of you. They will probably be a magical family. I promise you that they will treat you well and will be nothing at all like your relatives."

Harry lowered his head and whispered, "Thank you, sir."

"If you are comfortable talking about it, I would like to know what happened when you escaped from your uncle's house."

Harry's head snapped back up, and he flinched in that strange way of his, turning his body away while keeping his eyes locked on Dumbledore. The behaviour seemed familiar to the Headmaster, but he couldn't quite place it. He had certainly never seen James or Lily do that.

Dumbledore glanced away for a second in thought, and Harry seemed to relax. He then began to tell his tale, though he half mumbled as he spoke. At Dumbledore's prompting, he explained the strange flickering of the lights and the loud bang that distracted his family, along with how he ran out the door before he fully realised that he had changed. He then explained how he had found food and water and warm places to sleep outside.

For Dumbledore, the pieces began to fall into place. He would have to enquire with the Obliviators to get the full story, but it was clear that Harry had performed an impressive feat of accidental magic on top of unlocking his animagus ability. He was amazed by the boy's resourcefulness in surviving at that age and wondered how much of it was animal instinct. He would have to ask Minerva after the matter.

Hermione sat by Harry's side for most of the story. When he flinched, she tried to hold his hand, but he pulled away this time. However he did allow her to rub the back of his hand, since it was close enough to petting, like the people who put out food would sometimes do. When he mentioned catching mice for food, though, Hermione turned green and got up to sit with her mother.

When Harry finished his story with his encounter with Hermione that morning, Emma said the question that everybody was thinking: "So if you didn't know what happened, how did you find him?"

Dumbledore frowned. He had hoped to avoid this issue, but he felt he needed to be truthful. "I have certain ways of tracking Harry's movements using magic," he explained. "This is merely for his safety in case something should happen. However, these spells apparently did not follow him in cat form. But that is easy enough to fix…" Well, nothing else for it. "Harry, if you be so kind as to change back into a cat, I would like to correct the spells. I assure you that they are only there so that I can help you if you are taken somewhere you are not supposed to be." _Well, that's what _his _tracking charm was for._

Dan and Emma considered stopping him, but if the spells were there already, there was not much they could say. From their talk, it sounded like this kind of tracking was not uncommon.

Harry stared at the old man again, then lowered his head. "Yes, sir," he whispered. He seemed to concentrate for a moment, then his body shrunk down, and there was a black and white kitten sitting there on the couch.

Dumbledore drew his wand and muttered a lengthy incantation. The Grangers couldn't interpret it clearly, but they caught enough Latin forms to guess the etymology. When he finished, and blue aura surrounded the kitten for a moment, then vanished.

"There, it's done."

The kitten kept sitting there, seemingly unconcerned.

"Well…alright, then," Dumbledore said. He rose to his feet, subtly stretching his legs after such a long day. "I won't keep you any longer, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Thank you for your cooperation today. I will return on Monday to meet Ms. Wilkins and the boy concerning his placement. I reiterate that the magical world must be kept a secret from your non-magical friends and associates. And I would like to keep Harry's animagus ability particularly confidential because it is so…unusual, should you be approached by anyone else from the magical world."

"Of course," Dan said. "We understand."

"Mr. Dumbledore," Emma added, "we've had a lot going on today, and we'll need some time to process it…but could you possibly come back tomorrow afternoon—um, in case we have more questions?" Dan looked a little annoyed by the prospect, but said nothing.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and wondered just what kind of questions they might be that they would want to speak again so quickly, but he tried to answer casually: "Since you've been so generous in caring for the boy this weekend, I think I could arrange another visit tomorrow, say, at one o'clock, perhaps?"

"That would be excellent. Thank you."

"Good. Until then…" Dumbledore once again departed with a loud crack.

"Do they all do that?" Dan wondered.

After Dumbledore vanished, Hermione rose from her seat and sat down beside Harry again. The kitten hadn't bothered yet to change back into a boy. Hermione watched him for a moment, then reached out and began scratching him behind his ears.

"Hermione!" her mother exclaimed. Something about the action disturbed her. That kitten _was_ still a boy, wasn't he? It didn't seem right to just treat him like a cat.

The kitten tensed up under Hermione's fingers, but after a few moments, he actually seemed to relax. It was only when she tried to hold him with both hands that he gave a meow and slipped away off the sofa.

Emma felt that she couldn't handle an intelligent cat running around the house on top of everything else, so she tried to draw the boy back out over dinner. "Harry, I'm going to order some pizza for dinner," she said. "Would you mind…erm, changing back into a person so you can tell me what you want on it."

"Not mice!" Hermione yelled. Harry stopped in front of Emma's feet and untransformed, but didn't speak.

"No, not mice," Emma said. "Do you like anchovies, Harry?"

"Eww!" her daughter objected.

When he apologetically explained that he hadn't had pizza before, Emma went with just pepperoni.

* * *

Harry Potter lay in the double bed in the guest bedroom of the Granger household and wondered again how he had gotten here. It seemed impossibly luxurious just having room to stretch out all the way and actually a little too warm after weeks sleeping outside and years before that with only a threadbare blanket. It was a wonderful place to sleep, but it still made him uncomfortable. There was something profoundly wrong with the fact that he was being treated better by the Grangers, whom he had just met, than by his own family, even though he was too young to fully understand why. He went over it in his mind, how they had invited him to eat with them, held him when he cried, bought him clothes, let him watch the television, and finally Mrs. Granger actually tucked him into bed.

It had been the best day of his life, except that it didn't make one bit of sense to the confused five-year-old. He felt like being able to turn into a cat was the most normal thing that had happened that day, and even he could tell it was the one part the Grangers really couldn't handle, although they did a much better job of it than his relatives ever would have. And then there was Mr. Dumbledore. The old man was strange, but at least he seemed to know what was going on. Learning the truth about his parents was a shock, but magic and bad guys, however horrifying, he could understand.

The news that he wouldn't have to go back to his aunt and uncle hadn't really sunk in yet. He'd never had much reason to trust anyone about something like that, and he didn't want to hold out much hope. That he had even come this far still made him uncomfortable. He couldn't even seem to sleep in this great bed. Finally, he did something that he had never done before as a human: he rolled over to sleep on his stomach. Instantly, he felt more comfortable—more protected, somehow. Harry drifted off to sleep hoping, as he did every night now, that he wouldn't wake up in his cupboard in the morning, except this time, he also found himself hoping he wouldn't wake up curled up out in the cold again either.

* * *

While Hermione and Harry were both in bed, but Dan and Emma were certainly not sleeping. By unspoken agreement, they were sitting at the kitchen table, since the discussion was a particularly serious one, adding in a late-night cup of tea for good measure.

"What do you think of all this, Dan?" Emma started.

"What part? Our daughter has magical powers, she makes friends with a boy who can turn into a cat, some old goat in a ridiculous outfit shows up on our doorstep, and we apparently get dragged into some stupid race-based war like in some Third World country, not to mention the part where the bad guys still have their own political party."

"Yes, I know it's all pretty crazy. But what about Harry?"

Dan sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "I don't know. For a while, there, I thought we could help him, but…"

"Well, we always _have_ wanted another child."

"Yeah, we wanted another child who wasn't a target for terrorists."

Emma bit her lip and considered letting the matter drop, but she pressed on. "So what do you think we should do?"

"The _smart _thing to do would be let Dumbledore take care of Harry, keep our distance, and flee the country at the first sign of trouble."

"But…?"

Dan set his teacup down with a clatter. "Emma, I'm sorry, but why are we even considering this? Why do we even _need_ to consider this?"

"I—I know he regrets his mistake, but do you really trust Dumbledore to put Harry with a good family?"

He shook his head without hesitation. "Not really, no. _Better_, sure, but I don't think I could trust him on _good_, yet."

"Exactly. And there is that issue of him being famous in the magical world."

"But, Emma, it's not our problem." He held up a hand. "I'm not just dismissing it. This is serious danger we're talking about that don't even really understand yet. I have to worry about keeping you and Hermione safe first. That boy is not our problem, and this is not our war."

"I know. I'm worried about our daughter, too, but if it comes to it, it will be her war. Even if we take her overseas, this is still her home, and if she goes to that…Hogwarts school, it'll be her friends who get caught up in it."

"All the more reason to get out while the getting's good."

"That's all well and good for us, but Harry's doesn't have that option."

"And he won't if he stays with us, either." Dan stopped and took a deep breath. He didn't want to lose his temper with his wife, especially this late. "I'm just saying, how does it help anyone if we're stuck here with him?"

Emma rested her forehead on her hand. "If it comes to that, I'll admit it probably doesn't," she said. She met her husband's eyes again. "But right now, Harry is just a little boy who's been badly hurt, who needs help, and who doesn't have anyone in his life who can be trusted to give it to him. Plus, on top of that, Hermione's finally found a friend, which you have to admit is something she desperately needs. And I'll bet she's his first friend, too."

A light went on in Dan's mind, and he gave his wife a weak smile. "My God, you're really taken with this boy, aren't you."

Emma blushed. Pressing her lips together, she answered, "I suppose I am—motherly instinct kicking in and all that…but, Dan, how many times have we said in the past couple of years that we were going to adopt, and then it never happens?"

"And we still can, Emma, but it doesn't have to be Harry."

"But it's more than just that. I don't know…" She took a deep breath and tried to understand her feelings. "You know, my mother always told me, sometimes you have to make a choice between doing what's right and doing what's easy. And I've just got this feeling that adopting Harry is the right thing to do."

A scowl crossed Dan's face. "Emma, are you sure that Dumbledore didn't, you know, do something to you?"

"I…I doubt it. Else why didn't he do the same thing to you. I don't know where this coming from, but…I still think it's right."

Her husband just stared at her, amazed at her sudden conviction. He could see in her eyes how strongly she felt about this. And he did have to admit she was right about Dumbledore's judgement—or lack thereof.

"You know, we really owe Harry for this," she added.

"What do you mean?"

"If he hadn't shown up today, Hermione would have walked into that world blind six years from now, and maybe never have been told the full story. At least now she'll be more prepared if something does happen."

Well, there was that. "You realise you're talking about joining a war, though, don't you—or a counter-terror force, anyway?" Dan pressed her.

"I know."

"Against people who can use _magic_. All we have is a shotgun."

"I know. Don't think I haven't thought of that; I almost feel like I've lost my mind myself. But we don't even know if there'll be a war. And if there is, it might not be until the kids are grown. We _do_ know that Harry needs a family, and no matter what he says, I don't trust that Mr. Dumbledore to find one for him who can really help him."

"And you think we can? We barely know the first thing about his world."

"We can better than his abusive relatives or a bunch of magical fans, Dan. That much is obvious."

Dan rested his head on his hands as he tried to collect his thoughts. As adamant as his wife was being, there were few places he could fault her logic. They _had_ wanted another child, and that wasn't likely to happen for Emma. Heck, he'd even liked Harry himself until he found out how much trouble the boy was in. He wasn't keen to abandon the boy by any means, but the story of that Voldemort lunatic was far more than he wanted to take. And yet, as much as he wanted to assure himself that Dumbledore had things under control with Harry, he couldn't make himself believe it. He hated to admit it, but the right thing _was_ to at least keep the boy close—certainly to let him be friends with Hermione if they wanted. Emma was right about that, too. A friend was something both children needed. He steeled himself and looked up again.

"So what do you think?" she asked.

"I…I think it's late. I think we need to sleep on it…Look, I'm not going to just say no. But I don't want to even consider it until we know something about how we can stay safe."

"Of course not. I wouldn't either. That's why I wanted to talk to Mr. Dumbledore."

"Yes, of course…" It was only then that Dan understood how many steps ahead of him his wife was. "Although, is he even the person to ask?"

"He did say he fought against Voldemort. We can ask him about that, too."

"He certainly didn't keep Harry's parents safe, though."

"We don't know what happened to Harry's parents, exactly…I'd better write this down."

Emma started her new list of questions, which she was sure would grow a good deal longer by the time the old man visited them again.

"And…as difficult as it'll be, if we really want to do this, we need to ask Hermione if she's okay with it, too," Dan said.

Emma closed her eyes, blinking back a tear or two. "I know. That's going to be the hardest part in all this."

"Come on, we'd better get to bed, then. I feel like it's gonna be another long day tomorrow."

"Ha, only tomorrow?"

They broke off the discussion and wearily trudged up the stairs. They were just at their bedroom door when Dan stopped one more time.

"Emma," he said. "Do you remember how oddly your mother always dressed?"

"Yes, but…no, you don't think?"

"Well, it wouldn't even be in the top ten strange things that have happened today…and your parents both died a couple of years before Hermione was born under mysterious circumstances."

"Something else we need to ask Dumbledore about."

With the possibilities continuing to spin through their minds, they laid down for what would prove to be a most uneasy night's sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: JK Rowling is the acknowledged Lady and Mistress of all things Harry Potter. We are but her humble fans.

A/N: Thank you for all the kind reviews. I'm glad to see that my first story has gotten off to such a good start. I have now gotten through my backlog of revising and proofreading. Chapter 6 is now in progress, and I will make an effort to post a new chapter every weekend (and maybe the occasional one-shot along the way).

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Albus Dumbledore returned to the Granger residence precisely on time the next day. Dan answered the door and shook his head slightly when he saw that the old man was now dressed in long maroon robes with black geometric patterns on them and a red nightcap.

"Thank you for seeing us again Mr. Dumbledore," he said, shaking the man's hand this time. "Please come in."

Dumbledore entered the house and found it considerably calmer than yesterday, although the children were not to be seen on the lower level. This didn't worry him though, as he had checked and found Harry to still be in residence when he left Hogwarts.

"The children are upstairs," Emma said in response to the unspoken question. "We need to speak with you privately first."

"Of course. Lead the way."

Emma smirked slightly as they led him to the kitchen and again took the position of control with the two of them seated across the table from him.

"How is Harry today?" he asked with a light smile.

The Grangers smiled back, but they were more patronising smiles. "Physically, much better," Emma said. "And he seemed reasonably comfortable last night. He's going to need lot of time to adjust, though."

Dumbledore nodded. He supposed that was the best that could be hoped for. He could assess the boy in person later. Noting the notebook that Emma held open on the table, he said, "I see you have more questions, Mrs. Granger. It's reassuring to see that you are taking such an interest in your daughter's future and wizarding culture." Of course, he suspected more, but this was a time to let them do the talking.

"Yes, we'll get to that in a moment," she replied. She wanted to get the less important (maybe) question out of the way first. "But there was something we thought of last night. My parents died in 1977 under mysterious circumstances, Mr. Dumbledore. They were both found dead in their home in the aftermath of what looked like a gas explosion, but the coroner never actually determined a cause of death. And we also remembered that my mother always had an unusual habit of dressing in robes, but she never mentioned anything about magic that I can recall. Do you know if there might have been some kind of connection?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard in concern. "How unusual," he said. "What was your mother's maiden name?"

"Fawley. Emilie Fawley. My father was Samuel Puckle."

"Hmm, I don't know any Puckles, but Fawley _is_ a wizarding name. However, most of that family were killed in Grindelwald's War."

"Grindelwald's War?"

"You would know it as World War II."

Emma's eyes widened. "My grandparents on my mother's side were killed in World War II. They both died in the Blitz."

"That would fit, then. Mrs. Granger, I believe your mother may have been a squib—a non-magical person born to magical parents. Unfortunately, they are often shunned by pureblood families and leave the wizarding world—even more so before Grindelwald's War, but their magical heritage may resurface after several generations."

The Grangers glanced at each other. That explained Hermione, then.

"As for your parents…I'm afraid that their deaths were no accident, either. Voldemort rarely bothered with squibs who left the magical world, but your description bears all the marks of a Death Eater attack. You have my condolences for your loss, Mrs. Granger. It would appear that you've had several more unpleasant contacts with the magical world than I expected."

_This_ was news. The fact that both her parents and grandparents had been killed by "dark wizards" was a lot to for her to take. She blinked back tears and buried her face in Dan's shoulder as she tried to collect herself. Dan just wrapped his arms around her. He looked like he was going to be sick at the thought that his family had already been visited by the violent prejudices of the magical world, and he wondered again if it was worth it to deal with the them at all. Though on the other hand, he thought, the fact that World War II was apparently a magical conflict meant that they might not be able to escape it. For the first time, he had to question his dismissal of taking an active role in things.

Dumbledore waited patiently for several minutes while the Grangers dealt with these revelations. They were surprising enough to him and had to be devastating for the muggle family. He pitied the little girl when she learnt the truth. Harry had never had a chance to escape it, but it was sad to see the innocence of yet another child stripped away by the conflict.

At length, he just barely heard Dan whisper to his wife, "Are you okay? It's fine if you want to back out now."

It took Emma another minute to think it through, but in the end, she whispered back, "No, it doesn't change anything now." With a rather loud sniffle, she looked up and turned back to Dumbledore. Wiping her tear-stained cheeks, she told him, "Th-thank you for—for providing us with some closure about this, sir. It's…good that we can finally know the truth. But right now, we have more pressing issues. We…" she looked to her husband, and he nodded for her to go on. She spoke slowly to avoid tripping over her words: "We would like to consider adopting Harry ourselves."

Dumbledore was genuinely shocked at this, which was a rare occurrence. It was all he could do to confine his reaction to a raising of his eyebrows. He was sure that he had lost the opportunity for good after the revelations about her family. He never would have taken the two of them to be that Gryffindor.

"That would be…extraordinarily generous of you," he answered, not quite sure what to say. "May I…may I ask what led to this decision?"

"We…" her voice caught again. "We thought about what you said about Harry being so famous in the magical world. I'm sure you have good people, but we feel like we can give him a better environment here, where he can just be a kid for once. He deserves that after what he's been through. We've always wanted another child and haven't been able to have one, and Hermione already seems to like him…and frankly, we do, too."

This was too good to be true. He had to wonder whether there were ulterior motives at work here, but when he resorted to legilimency, he could sense no dishonesty from the pair, nor any sign of magical compulsions. He could already tell the Grangers were a fine family, and young Harry would be most fortunate to be a part of it, but he was amazed that they would even consider taking on that kind of risk.

"But you can probably see that there are some obvious problems with this arrangement," Dan said before he could broach the subject.

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. No use evading the matter. "Voldemort."

Dan nodded back firmly in response.

Dumbledore took a deep breath and solemnly folded his hands on the table. "Very well, what do you want to know."

"First off, you said that you and Harry's parents fought against him, but you also said you're the headmaster of a school. What was all that about?"

"I have many roles in the magical world, Mr. Granger. There is much that I cannot tell you for security's sake, but suffice it to say that I was the leader of a covert operation that worked against Voldemort's schemes. I won't pretend it wasn't dangerous work. Over a third of our members died over the course of the war, including the Potters."

That sounded even more serious than they thought, but they pressed on. "That's the next question: Harry's parents. What happened to them. How did Voldemort find them when Harry was with them? It's doesn't sound like they were killed in a firefight."

He wasn't wrong. Dumbledore told them what sounded like the full story: how Voldemort singled out the Potters for retribution, how they went into hiding, the Fidelius Charm, their betrayal by Sirius Black, who was now in prison, and their death at the hands of the dark wizard on All Hallows' Eve of 1981.

"Why didn't they have an escape route?" Emma demanded. "Surely, they knew there was a risk of being found out, even with the charm."

"I do not believe they ever considered the possibility. They trusted Black too highly. But as it happened, they _did_ have an escape route. Unfortunately, they were taken by surprise and could not reach it in time."

"Then what good was having it? Why weren't there magical protections there that gave them time to get away?"

Oh, how often Dumbledore had asked himself that very question in the past four years. But all he could do was admit that this had been yet another mistake. "Mrs. Granger," he explained, "I think we have all seen by now that I am not infallible. I recommended a Fidelius Charm to James and Lily because it is the strongest of all magical wards so long as the Secret Keeper can be trusted. There are many less powerful wards, such as the blood wards at Harry's former residence, and general wards that can be cast anywhere. Unfortunately, the Fidelius interferes with the application of most other types of wards. Had the Potters been in a conventionally warded house, they would almost certainly have slowed Voldemort down long enough for them to escape through the floo network, that is, magical travel by fireplace, unless he managed to find a way to interfere with the floo network itself, in which case we would have been in far worse trouble."

"Okay, then," Emma said after considering this answer. "If, and I do mean if, we choose to adopt Harry, would you be able to put these kinds of wards on our house, and perhaps our practice?"

It would take some paperwork, but it would be doable. "I can arrange that," he answered. "They won't be as strong as the blood wards, but they will slow down any attackers long enough to escape. For that event, I would provide a secured, private floo connection directly to Hogwarts, which is much more heavily-warded." That would be even more paperwork, and probably wouldn't be possible except for his position as Chief Warlock, but no need to complicate things. He decided to sweeten the deal a bit more. "I can also provide you with emergency portkeys, which are portable, point-to-point, instant transport charms. They are less reliable because the Death Eaters sometimes used anti-portkey wards, and they can only be used within the island of Britain, but they are the best form of magical protection available for when you are outside the house."

"Hmm…" Dan said, "that would make us feel a lot better about the possible arrangement. Although, with all due respect, sir, would it be possible to have these wards and escape routes independently certified?"

More distrust, Dumbledore thought, though he supposed he could hardly blame them. He was beginning to see the downside of not involving families of muggle-borns in the magical world until they enrolled in Hogwarts. Luckily, this one was relatively easy to answer. "I can put you in touch with Gringott's Wizarding Bank," he said. "They are experts in wards and security, and they have connections in the muggle world who can vouch for them. You will probably wish to contact them anyway regarding Harry. He inherited a rather substantial trust fund from his parents that can be used to help pay for his accommodation if need be."

"We're quite capable of supporting the boy ourselves, but thank you. A certification from this bank sounds reasonable enough. Now, what about the children themselves?

"What about them?"

"Well, since Voldemort or his followers might come after Harry, is there any kind of magical self-defence training the kids can take so they're more prepared?"

"I'm afraid not. Underage magic use is prohibited outside of school, and children rarely have enough control to learn significant magic until age eleven. In any case, it seems unnecessary to burden children so young with such concerns."

"We'll be the judge of that," Dan quipped.

"There are plenty of muggle martial arts programs that start that young," Emma added. "You're saying you really don't have anything?"

"No, there is nothing like that in the magical world…however…" It was an intriguing idea that Dumbledore had not previously thought of. The twinkle in his eyes came back for the first time all day. "Muggle martial arts could prove helpful. Even though they won't be that much use in a magical duel, the strength, stamina, and reaction time they build could make all the difference…especially since many Death Eaters rely on House Elves for manual labour and don't concern themselves with such things. If you _do_ wish to prepare the children, that is probably your best option until they come to Hogwarts."

"If we adopt Harry, there's no question," Emma said. "We _will e_nsure that they are as prepared as possible."

"Now, the last issue is information," Dan said. "I don't know how you normally do this, but if we choose to adopt Harry, you _will_ inform us immediately if Voldemort is sighted in any way, shape or form."

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed. "If he returns, I will need to take immediate action to ensure the integrity of Harry's protections."

"And you will also inform us if there is any other new Death Eater activity."

"Certainly."

"And any other important developments, like if some other 'dark wizard' wants a piece of him."

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger, you have my assurances that I will do everything in my power to protect young Harry and yourselves and your daughter should you choose to bring him into your family. And I can also take steps to expedite the adoption process if there are any problems with it."

Both Grangers raised an eyebrow. "Is that legal?"

Dumbledore paused for a moment, tight-lipped, but he answered, "It can be done legally."

Dan and Emma looked at each other again and whispered back and forth for a minute, but they decided they had no further questions. They rose from the table, and Emma spoke: "Okay, Mr. Dumbledore, we're going to talk to Hermione about this, and then talk to Harry, and _if_ they're both okay with it, we'll agree to the adoption. If you don't mind waiting, you can stay here, watch the telly if you like. Or you can come back later."

"I have the time to stay here for the afternoon, Mrs. Granger, thank you."

They nodded and left the kitchen to head up the stairs. Dumbledore still couldn't believe his luck with the Grangers. It would mean a lot of work to get all the necessary wards and approvals, but he would be happy to get a second chance with the boy, this time exposing him to the magical world in a controlled manner. As he thought about it, he realised that was probably even better than his original plan. He only hoped they could convince the children, as hard as that would be. In the meantime, he considered investigating the strange box that the muggles called a "telly".

* * *

"One question first." Dan said at the top of the stairs. "Do we trust that Dumbledore's telling the truth?"

Emma had thought of that, too, but she thought so. "He has no reason to lie to us. If he wanted to harm Harry or us, he could have just waved that stick of his and done it. Right?"

"Right." He felt a little queasy at the thought, though. "So you still want to go through with this after everything?"

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Against all common sense, yes." She opened the door to her daughter's room and found her trying to teach Harry to play Go Fish, with limited success. "Hermione, could you come here, please? Daddy and I need to talk to you. Harry, stay there for now. We'll talk to you in a little while."

Hermione got up and followed her parents into their bedroom, sensing how serious they were being.

"Have a seat," her mother said, motioning to the bed. They had decided on the bedroom for this because it was closer and more intimate for such an emotional conversation. They all sat on the bed, and Hermione watched them carefully. Those large, chocolate-brown eyes of hers always seemed to pick up on everything. With the heavy curtains closed, it looked as much like evening in the room as mid-afternoon, which somehow seemed appropriate.

"Hermione, do you remember how Mr. Dumbledore said he wants to send Harry to a nice magical family last night?"

"Uh huh," she nodded happily.

"Well, we've been talking with Mr. Dumbledore some more, and we don't think that's such a good idea."

Hermione's smile changed to a confused frown. "Why not?"

"Because, in the magical world, Harry is very famous because everyone thinks he beat that bad wizard, Voldemort."

"The one who killed his parents?" she whispered.

"Yes, him. Everyone thinks Harry defeated Voldemort, even though he was just a baby and didn't do anything. If he lives over there, everyone will treat him like a famous movie star, and he might get spoilt. And we don't want him to end up like his mean cousin, do we."

Hermione gave a slight giggle at this, but then turned serious again. "Do you think Mr. Dumbledore will mess up again?" she asked, reminding them that there was no pulling the wool over their daughter's eyes.

Her father answered her, "We think Mr. Dumbledore really wants to fix his mistake, and he'll put Harry with a much better family than his old one, but we don't know how good of a family they'll be."

Emma took a deep breathe and continued, "So…your father and I decided that we would like to adopt Harry. Do you know what that means?"

Hermione's eye went wide. "It means he'd live with us? And he'd be my brother?"

"That's right—"

"That's great!"

"Wait," Dan interrupted. "There's something you need to know, first. It would be _dangerous_ if we adopt Harry." He made sure to speak that last sentence especially clearly.

"What…? Why?"

"Because, honey, Mr. Dumbledore thinks that Voldemort isn't really dead."

"What!"

"Yes, he thinks that Voldemort might come back someday and try to kill Harry again."

Hermione clapped both hands over her mouth. Her mother reached out to her and pulled her close, putting an arm around her. "We're sorry you have to hear all of this, Hermione, but it's very important that you understand. Do you remember how I told you about my parents, your Grandma and Grandpa Puckle, and how they died before you were born?"

The wheels were already turning, and if it were possible, Hermione's eyes grew even wider. She nodded while keeping her hands over her mouth.

"We told Mr. Dumbledore about them, and he thinks that Voldemort killed them, too…You see, Voldemort is a very bad man. He hated my mother because she couldn't do magic when her parents—your great-grandparents—were magical. He hates Harry because his parents fought him. And he also hates people who can do magic, but don't have magical parents—people like you…" Emma took a deep breath to try to keep her voice steady. "So even if Harry's not here…if he comes back…he might try to kill you, too."

"Eep!" Hermione hugged her mother tight and hid her face in her shirt.

"We don't know if Voldemort is going to come back," Dan said soothingly. "Even if he does, it might not be until years and years from now. Now, if it's just the three of us, we can leave the country, and we'll be safe from him."

Hermione suddenly went still. She held herself there, clinging to her mother for a few moments, then she very slowly pulled away, looked up to face her parents, and whispered, "But Harry can't?"

_She is her mother's daughter for sure_, Dan thought as he shook his head. "No, Voldemort especially hates Harry, and he'll chase him anywhere in the world."

"But that's not fair!" She exclaimed, flipping from sadness to anger in a blink. "His parents died, his aunt and uncle hurt him, and now no one wants him because it's dangerous."

"That's not true, Hermione," Emma said. "We do want him. And Mr. Dumbledore can use magic to protect us. We just want to make sure you're okay with it."

She started to process this. Magical protection sounded good, and she was sure she would like having Harry as a brother. But bad guys trying to kill her, not so much. She wasn't sure what she wanted.

"It's okay if you say no," her father assured her. "There's other families that want him, too. Like Mummy said, he's famous—"

"But that's not fair either! They shouldn't want him just because he's famous. They should want him because he's Harry."

If there was any doubt that Hermione had inherited her mother's uncompromising sense of justice, it was gone now. Dan would have been proud of her had it not been the same thing that had been giving him headaches all weekend.

"We know it's not fair, honey," he tried again, "but it's still okay if you say no. You can still be friends with Harry, and as long as it's safe, you can go to the same magical school with him in a few years."

"And," Emma added, "if we do adopt Harry, there's going to have to be some changes, and I don't mean just because you won't be the only kid in the house anymore."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Like what?"

"Well, one thing is that the way Mr. Dumbledore's magical protections work, we would all have to be ready to get away really fast—like a fire drill. Another thing is that we want you to be as prepared as possible just in case bad guys do show up. You're too young to use magic now, but Mr. Dumbledore says that if you learn non-magical self-defence, it will help you be better at magic later, so you would both be taking karate classes. And like Mr. Dumbledore said, we have to keep everything magical a secret, so you can't tell anyone at school or anything like that."

"Oh…I understand." She had been nodding slowly throughout the explanation.

"But we need to decide this as a family, and we need to make sure we _all_ agree," Dan said.

"Yes, and you need to be really sure about this because if we do adopt Harry, we're not going to hurt him or abandon him like those other people did," Emma added.

Hermione didn't need to be told twice how seriously her parents were taking this, and she knew that if they took this step, there would be no going back. She looked away from her parents' questioning faces. She thought about how much she would like having a brother, especially one who was magical, like she apparently was, and about how much Harry needed a good family. She also thought about how it would put them against the bad guys, but in the end, she really only had one question. Looking back at her mother, she asked, "Do you think Mr. Dumbledore will keep us safe?"

_Not completely, no_, Emma thought, but he _had_ promised the best that magic could give them. "I think," she said, "that that's one thing he's really good at."

Hermione looked away again, but it was just a few seconds before she looked back and nervously whispered, "I think we should do it."

Neither of her parents displayed any outward opinion of her decision. They just nodded with a sense of finality.

"Okay," her mother said, extricating her from her grip. "I'll go get Harry."

Harry lay on his stomach on the floor of Hermione's room, where he had been left, examining the playing cards. He could read enough to tell them apart, but the idea of matching them up was a little more difficult, and any kind of actual strategy was completely beyond him. He didn't mind being left alone. He had long since learnt to deal with boredom, but now, it gave him time to think about what had happened. He had awoken that morning as a cat again, in the same double bed he had gone to sleep in, and hadn't remembered to change back until breakfast. It would take him a while to get used to being human again. He had been served breakfast at the table (the pancakes were _definitely_ sweeter than he was used to, and he said so, but he was told that's how they were supposed to be), watched the telly and just talked for a while, had a sandwich for lunch, and then Hermione started trying to teach him her card games. He might have preferred to teach Hermione his own games, but the only games he knew were Harry Hunting (which he opposed on principle), Rodent Hunting, and the occasional mock fight with another kitten, so that probably wouldn't work out.

"Harry?"

With a start, he rolled to one side and turned his head to meet Emma's gaze.

"Come with me, please."

The boy scrambled to his feet and followed her into the master bedroom. When she asked him to have a seat on the bed, where he wound up facing the three Grangers who reclined against the headboard, it was another new arrangement for him. He knelt on the bed instead of sitting, keeping his legs in a position where he could spring to his feet.

"Harry," Emma said, "do you remember when Mr. Dumbledore said he would take you to a magical family?"

The boy nodded slowly, still staring intently at the Grangers. "Yes, ma'am."

"Well, we talked it over with him, and we think that it would be better for you if you stayed in the non-magical world until you're old enough to go to magic school. So all three of us—" She motioned to her husband and daughter. "—decided that we would like to adopt you into our family. Do you know what that means, Harry?"

He'd heard the word before, and he knew that it had something to do with family, but no one had ever really explained it to him. It was something Aunt Petunia had said once in a while, but never in a nice way. "No, ma'am," he said, shaking his head.

"It means that we would sign some papers to make you legally our son. We would be your new parents, and Hermione would be your sister. You would live with us from now on, and…and Mr. Dumbledore would help us make sure that you never have to go back to your aunt and uncle again."

Harry hunched over slightly, gripping the blankets with his fingers. Tears started to form in his eyes.

"Would you like to join our family, Harry?" Emma said.

Harry couldn't believe his ears. After all the times Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had complained about having to raise him and called him a burden, these people actually _wanted_ him? When they only met him yesterday? And as a son, not just a nephew or some boy in the house (or a pet)? _Those_ were words he understood. Even he could tell Dudley was spoilt, but at least his aunt and uncle were nice to him. And the Grangers were actually _asking_ him what he wanted? Never having to go back to the Dursleys would have been enough by itself, but these were literally the nicest people he could ever remember meeting, and after staying with them overnight, he could actually start to believe that they meant what they said.

It was almost an involuntary response as Harry blinked very slowly at them and lowered his head slightly, but they didn't seem to understand the gesture.

"Harry?" Dan asked.

Harry's tears finally flowed freely as his spring-loaded legs uncurled, and he pounced on the Grangers, trying to reach his arms as far as he could around them. Emma wrapped him in a hug, Hermione piled on his back, and Dan reached an arm around to his shoulder, and for once he didn't mind a bit. Once they gave him enough room to breath, he began humming to himself and rubbing his head against Emma's shoulder in a way that was unmistakably cat-like.

Emma chuckled at the sudden display of affection and started rubbing the boy's back. At that, he fully relaxed for what seemed like the first time in her presence. "Well, I think that's a yes, then," she said softly.

Dan smiled, putting aside the insanity of the decision for the moment, and said, "Welcome to the family, son." _Wow,_ he thought, _there's some words I didn't think I'd use for another twenty years._

* * *

Dumbledore was just starting to understand muggle television in terms of its similarity to the Wizarding Wireless. Anyone who could figure out how to transmit moving pictures with magic would stand to make a lot of money, but that was a matter for another time as he saw the three Grangers and Harry Potter descending the stairs. He didn't remember exactly how he had turned the device on, but he reached into his pocket and quickly turned it off with a flick of his deluminator. He rose to his feet, but when he saw young Harry hugging Emma's legs and smiling serenely with his eyes nearly-closed, he rejoiced inwardly and let them do the talking.

"Mr. Dumbledore, we have decided to adopt Harry," Dan said simply. "We'll take him to a doctor and get started on the paperwork tomorrow."

Dumbledore tipped his hat to them and smiled broadly. "Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Granger—and Miss Granger. I can't tell you how much I appreciate being able to find a loving home for the boy so quickly. I will, of course, contact you within the week about the security arrangements for your house. For the time being, no one else knows where Harry is, so I see no reason that you cannot send him to your daughter's primary school immediately."

"Yes, that—that sounds good," Dan said, having all but forgotten that Harry had spent all of two weeks in school back at the beginning of the term.

Dumbledore now looked down at Harry, whose eyes snapped open to stare back. "Harry, I think you will be very happy here. Your new family are good people. In a few years, I hope you and your new sister will consider coming to Hogwarts to learn magic."

Harry said nothing, but he blinked slowly at Dumbledore, and the Headmaster suddenly recognised where he had seen the boy's mannerisms before. Of course, it was Minerva who gave him that same slow blink in almost every meeting, and he had seen the same response from plenty of cats in his time. He remembered his earlier discussion with Minerva and looked back up at the boy's new parents—now _that_ would take some getting used to—for everyone in the wizarding world someday.

"Also, now that the Harry's long-term placement is settled," he said, "I wonder if you might like to meet with my Deputy, Minerva McGonagall, next weekend. She is also an animagus, and by a great coincidence, her form is also a cat. I believe she could teach Harry to properly handle his feline side."

"That would be excellent," Emma said. "That's very fortunate that someone like her is available."

"Indeed. I will arrange it immediately."

"And Mr. Dumbledore," Dan continued, "we still know so little about the magical world, when you get down to it. Is there any way we could learn more about it? Books on magical life or history or something of the sort?"

"Oh, yes, magic books!" Hermione piped up.

Dumbledore chuckled at the girl's enthusiasm. "Since you are so interested, I think I can pick up a couple of books for you. And now, I will bid you good afternoon. I'm sure you have a lot to catch up on."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Dumbledore…and thank you," Dan said. He shook the old man's hand.

After receiving thanks and shaking hands with the rest of the family—even Harry, at last—Dumbledore took his leave. The Grangers were shocked when he exited through the front door.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling. The storyline is mine only insofar as it deviates from her work.

A/N: Chapter 7 is in progress to go up next weekend. Thanks for all the reviews. I've also posted a new one-shot piece, _The Wandmaker's Escape_, on my profile.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Minerva witnessed Albus returning to the castle after what had clearly been a very emotional meeting and quickly followed him to his office. Oddly, though, she couldn't get a read on him as he took his seat, and that likely meant something very out of the ordinary had happened.

"Albus, is anything wrong?" she asked. "What did that family want to talk to about?"

"Please sit, Minerva. Nothing is wrong," Albus said. "In fact, I was most fortunate to solve another of our problems. The Granger family has agreed to adopt Harry Potter and raise him alongside their daughter."

"Adopt him? So quickly?" Minerva tensed up and shot him one of her trademark unblinking stares. "Albus, if I find out you used a Compulsion Charm on those muggles…"

"I assure you I did nothing of the sort, nor did I even suggest the action to them. They came to their decision entirely on their own."

Minerva wasn't placated. "And did you allow them to come to this decision without knowing the risks that Mr. Potter carries with him?"

"On the contrary. The matter had already come up in our conversation yesterday. When I met with them today, they asked me most extensive questions about the nature of the threat and how they might be kept safe before making their decision. I must say that the Grangers are the most proactive set of muggle parents I have met in quite some time, and if their daughter takes after them, she will make a fine addition to your house."

And there was that slow blink again. The remark had caught her a bit off guard, though there was still something that confused her about the whole affair. "So you found Harry Potter after losing him for seven weeks," she said, "And then you find a new family for him overnight? How can you possibly explain that?" She started to wonder if Albus could possibly have staged some of it, though why would he?

"I think Sybill would be a better person with whom to discuss the vagaries of Fate…" he replied. "On a good day, anyway. But as I said yesterday, I think that perhaps the normal rules do not apply to Harry Potter."

Minerva couldn't help but wonder whether that was a good thing. "So what must be done now?"

"Quite a lot at the moment," Albus confirmed, "and I will need your help with some of it."

"How so?"

"First, I will be very busy this week making the security arrangements for the Granger residence. I'm sure you can handle anything that may come up in the meantime. Secondly, I would like to arrange your meeting with Mr. Potter and his new family. Would next Saturday be suitable?"

A much needed meeting, at that. She took only a moment to consider her schedule before answering, "Yes, I think that would work. And I will make contingencies for your being away this week."

"Very good, Minerva. I do believe we have set Mr. Potter on a much better path."

"Well, I should certainly hope so," she huffed. "Will you be informing anyone else of these arrangements?"

"Only those who need to know. He is still safer if his location is not widely known, and as we discussed four years ago, the political consequences of the Boy-Who-Lived being raised by muggles are best put off until he can speak for himself."

"Of course. I suppose that's for the best. And that's one more good reason that the boy escaped his relatives when he did," she reminded him.

"Quite," he said curtly.

"And Albus?"

"Yes?"

"Do be sure that you are thorough regarding the boy's safety."

Albus smiled at her. "The Grangers are demanding Gringotts certification of their wards," he said. "I could hardly do otherwise."

* * *

Harry looked around Hermione's classroom—his new classroom—the next morning while Mrs. Granger—no, it was Mum, now—had a few words with the teacher. He had only spent a couple of weeks in a classroom before, and those weeks had been only mildly more pleasant than usual. This classroom didn't look much different from the one in Little Whinging, except for the faces. He hoped they would be nicer than his last class. He didn't know anyone here besides Hermione, so there was no reason for anyone to start turning people against him, like last time, and if anyone did, he had at least grown some—no, Mrs. Granger said he couldn't use his claws here. No, she was his Mum now, or would be once she signed the papers. The thought brought tears to his eyes, but he blinked them back, as he had long since grown all too accustomed to doing. Anyway, he could still—no, he couldn't turn into a cat to escape, either. Being human was hard. He had to be so…normal all the time, even without Uncle Vernon breathing down his neck.

He kept watching, wide-eyed, trying to take in as much as he could. He started to notice some of the other kids staring at him, so he looked away back toward the teacher and Mum—no—yes, he got it right that time. But he saw the teacher shoot him a couple of nervous glances, so he turned to inspecting the walls, floors, tables—generally avoiding people's eyes, although as he felt more and more eyes on him, he found he couldn't just look away. He looked at the faces of his new classmates in turn, and he noticed what appeared to be a name tag taped to the little tables in front of each of them. He couldn't see any unclaimed seats.

Hermione had already sat down. He wanted to sit next to her, next to someone familiar, but there were no empty seats at that table. He started to wonder if there had been some kind of mistake in bringing him here. Hermione saw him standing awkwardly and got up again to stand by her side, but he didn't pay her much attention, since he was focusing on the teacher again. At last, the grown-ups broke off their conversation.

Their Mum came over first. She leaned down and told them, "Alright, kids, Mrs. Callahan will take over from here. I'll pick you up right here after classes. Have a nice day. I love you both." She then kissed both of them on the cheek, an action which, in Year 1, caused them only mild embarrassment. Harry, who was still easily overwhelmed by being told he was loved, didn't even notice the giggles of the other children.

Then the teacher introduced herself to her new student. She hadn't had much personal experience with abused children, but she would just have to hope for the best. "Hello, Harry, I'm Mrs. Callahan," she said with a somewhat forced smile. "I'm going to be your new teacher this year. I know you've missed some school, but your parents and I are going to try to help you catch up with your lessons, okay?"

His parents—not even his _new_ parents, she had said. Harry could be forgiven for being a little slow on the uptake, since that phrase constantly made his chest feel tight and derailed whatever he was thinking about at the time. He regarded the woman silently. She looked nice enough, like his previous teacher, whom he couldn't fault for any of the other trouble he had had, and—wait, he was supposed to answer that, wasn't he? What was it? Something about catching up with lessons. He blinked slowly at her and answered, "Yes, ma'am."

"Very good, Harry." She stood up straight and address the class: "Boys and girls, we have a new student today. This is Harry Potter. He just 'moved' here from Surrey, and he's being adopted by Hermione's family. Everyone say, 'Hello, Harry.'"

"Hello, Harry." the class repeated.

Mrs. Callahan brought in an extra chair and rearranged a couple of the seats so that Harry could sit at Hermione's table, much to the boy's relief. Harry noticed the other kids at their table glance at the scar on his forehead a couple of times, but that was it.

Harry was pretty far behind and had forgotten most of what little he had learnt at his school in Little Whinging, but he thought Mrs. Callahan was a good teacher. He was lucky that she was still teaching the basics of reading, and with Hermione's help, he started to relearn how to sound out words. Mrs. Callahan didn't call on him to answer any questions, and nobody besides Hermione paid much attention to him in class, which for now, at least, was how he liked it. Any attention he got at his old school usually didn't end too well for him, but here, his only problem was that he had a hard time seeing the board, although he remembered Mr. Granger—no, Dad—saying that was supposed to be taken care of soon.

But recess was the part he was dreading, even though he had no objective reason to. A large, disorganised group of children definitely wasn't his thing, he thought. He tended to end up on the wrong end of a gang of bullies when he was around one of those. Hermione wasn't too enthusiastic about it either, although that was mostly because Mrs. Callahan wouldn't let her take a book with her. The two of them stuck close together and wandered around for a few minutes. With him not knowing anyone, and her not having any close friends, there didn't seem to be much point to anything else. Then Harry noticed something that hadn't interested him the last time he was in a schoolyard: the jungle gym.

It was mostly older kids who were playing on it, since it was a little too advanced for the little ones, but when Harry got the idea into his head, he made a beeline for it. Putting his cat-like sense of balance to good use, he scrambled up the structure with the ease of a boy twice his age.

"Whoa, you're good," another boy who looked only a little older than him said from the bar below him.

"Thanks," Harry said, smiling a little at actually being praised for something.

"Who are you?" the boy asked.

"I'm, uh, Harry—Harry Potter…Who are you?"

"I'm Paul—Paul Talbot, the boy mimicked him.

"Hi, Harry. Hi Paul. I'm Tiffany," a little girl with short blonde hair said as she struggled up the side of the structure. "Oof, how'd you learn to climb like that."

"I, uh…watched my cat?" Harry tried to cover for himself. Both of the other kids started laughing. He tensed up, ready to flee, but they didn't seem to be calling him out. In fact, they were smiling at him. Maybe these two were alright. He looked down at where his new sister was watching from. "Hermione, come up here," he said.

"I…I don't think so. I'm not good at climbing," she answered as she nervously eyed the metal structure.

"It's not that hard," he said. He started to descend headfirst, but quickly learnt that his cat-like sense of balance was just a metaphor in human form. He slipped, but caught himself just as the playground monitor had started to run to help him. He managed to slide down the rest of the way unaided, though, and dismissed the slip-up, saying, "No, really. Come on." He offered a hand to help her up.

That was enough to get her to try it, Harry was glad to see. With his help, and under the watchful eye of the monitor, she shakily made her way to the top of the jungle gym. She clung tight to the bars, though, while he sat comfortably on the top.

"Hey guys, this is my sister, Hermione," Harry told the others, surprising himself by grinning with pride.

Tiffany giggled at her name, and Paul blurted out, "What kinda name is Hermione?"

Harry glared at him, but the girl in question blushed and averted her eyes, whispering, "It's from _The Winter's Tale_."

"It's better than Paul," Harry said, and instantly regretted it, not for defending Hermione, but because he didn't want to antagonise the other boy (who was, after all, larger than he was), not to mention that it didn't even make sense.

He was shocked and relieved when Tiffany saved him by saying, "Yeah, 'cause she's a girl."

That set Paul laughing again. "Yeah, that'd be awful."

Harry let out the breath he was holding and nearly slipped again before he remembered he was sitting ten feet off the ground on a metal bar, but the crisis seemed to be averted. The four children hung out around the jungle gym for the rest of the recess, mostly just climbing back and forth around the bars and dodging the bigger kids, although both of the girls seemed to be more interested in sitting in one place.

Since they weren't in the same class, Paul and Tiffany didn't know about Harry "moving" from Surrey, and they seemed to accept his explanation that he was being adopted by Hermione's parents when they asked about where he lived. The only other incident came when Tiffany got a good look at his face and asked what had happened to his head. He had to fight the urge to run away at that point, possibly in cat form, but he haltingly mumbled the cover story that he had been in a car crash. Paul and Tiffany both winced, but didn't make anything else out of it.

Harry and Hermione both walked back to class wondering in amazement that they might have actually managed to make some friends.

* * *

Those first few days were busy ones. Harry had to go to see a doctor that afternoon for a complete physical, with x-rays scheduled for Friday, to make sure he was doing okay and to help build the case against his aunt and uncle. Luckily, they hadn't contested the loss of custody, so that was one less thing to worry about. Harry was found to be malnourished and to have some old injuries that had not been properly treated, but nothing that would seriously hamper him in the future. In any case, he was now getting plenty to eat.

The next day was the eye doctor, where Harry learnt that he did, indeed, need glasses, since he was already quite nearsighted. He found himself drawn to a pair of round, black frames that could decidedly not be considered stylish, but his family agreed that they actually looked strangely good on him. He was very happy that he could actually read the blackboard the next day, and that the other kids didn't say much about his glasses.

Dan and Emma had also tried to take him to a barber to make him look more presentable, but his hair was so wild that the only thing that would make it behave was buzz cut, which Harry didn't like at all. They just shook their heads the next day when they saw that it had grown back out overnight.

In the meantime, there was a lot of paperwork to do. They had to formally extend Harry's fostering placement pending a preliminary adoption placement, then file for the formal adoption order, for which there was a minimum ten-week waiting period. On top of that, there were school and medical records that had to be pieced together from the Dursleys' poor record keeping. It was only by luck that they got a hold of a vaccination report. They never learnt if there was any magic being done behind the scenes to help them out, but they certainly felt like they could use some.

Thursday was a mildly calmer day. Harry had managed to wake up as a human for two days in a row. He was getting used to his new glasses and was feeling more comfortable in his new home and school. So of course, that was the perfect time for the magical world to slip back in and cause more chaos. It started when they heard a tapping at the kitchen window that morning.

Emma quickly opened the curtains to the strangest sight she had seen since…well, not all that long, really, but it was strange enough. "What the—?"

"What is it, Emma?" Dan asked.

"There is an _owl_ with a letter in its beak."

"A what?" He rose and approached the window. Sure enough, there was a rather large short-eared owl with an envelope in its beak, tapping against the window and glaring at the couple. The envelope was clearly addressed to "Mr. and Mrs. Granger," followed by their street address.

"It must want you to take the letter," Dan observed.

"Uh huh…" Emma said distantly. She cautiously opened the window and took the letter from the bird. It gave an annoyed hoot and quickly flew away. "It looks like it's on parchment," she said, turning it over and breaking the ornate wax seal. She slid a note out of the envelope and opened it.

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Granger,_

_Per your request, I have arranged to place magical protections on your house. Please expect me at 8 o'clock tonight to set them up, and ensure that the fireplace is not blocked. I will also bring a few items of importance to you and Harry._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

"Brian?" Dan said. "It sounds so normal."

"Hmm, eight tonight," Emma stayed on task. "Well, good to get it out of the way. I wonder what he's bringing, though."

"I don't know. He didn't seem to think Harry needed anything before."

"Unless it's part of the protections," Emma suggested. "And I assume that's what the fireplace is about."

"I think so. He did mention it. Is there anything going on tonight?"

"No, for once. There shouldn't be any trouble."

* * *

The Grangers waited for the doorbell to ring at eight o'clock, but it never did. Instead, at the appointed hour, there was a whoosh from the fireplace, and they looked over and saw the head of Albus Dumbledore sticking out from emerald green flames.

Harry and Hermione both screamed and fled from the room, and their parents looked about ready to do the same.

"Wait," the disembodied head said. The image was blurry and flickering around the edges, and most of his beard was not visible. "I apologise for alarming you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. This was the quickest way to check the floo connection. May I come in."

"Um…yes, yes, of course," Emma said, remembering her manners.

"Thank you." Dumbledore's torso followed his head as he stepped through, stooping low to get out of the fireplace. He was wearing his red and black robes again, and Hermione, peering out from around the corner, shouted out what everyone was thinking: "You _are_ Santa Claus!"

Dumbledore laughed at her comment. "No, Hermione, I'm afraid the resemblance is entirely coincidental. I am merely demonstrating floo transport, which is how many witches and wizards travel from place to place. Look, as you can see, as long as the flame burns green, it is quite safe to touch." He waved his hand through the magical fire.

Dan cautiously reached out a hand to the fire, followed by his wife. The flames were only lukewarm and gave off no heat to the room.

Then, Dumbledore pulled out his wand, pointed it into the flames, and said, "_Accio_ trunk." Suddenly, a smallish trunk flew out of the fireplace and straight to the old wizard's hands. The Grangers noted that this was the first bit of obviously useful magic they had yet seen. A moment later, the green flames changed back to their natural orange, and they could feel the heat from the fire again.

"Gather around, please. All of you will need to see this demonstration." All four of them clustered around the fireplace, and the Headmaster pulled out a large urn that was taller than the size of the trunk. He placed it by one side of the fireplace and opened it to reveal a green powder inside. "Harry," he said seriously, then stopped when he saw the boy's new look.

"Yes, sir?" the boy asked.

"How extraordinary. Those glasses look very much like your father's."

"They do?"

"They do, indeed. Did you pick them out yourself?"

"Yes, sir."

"It would seem that you have inherited your father's sense of fashion, then." Dumbledore turned serious again. "As I was saying, though, Harry, I am afraid that it is entirely possible that Voldemort may one day return—or else his followers will come looking for you."

Harry flinched at the revelation and stared at him intently.

"Should you or your family ever be attacked here, you will be able to escape through the fireplace." He grabbed a handful of the green powder and said, "This is floo powder. It is used to create a magical fire that connects your fireplace with another one. However, unlike most magical fireplaces, I have set yours up so that it will only connect with my office at Hogwarts. To use it, you must throw a handful of the powder into the fireplace and clearly speak the word, 'Hogwarts'." He demonstrated the action, and the flames turned green again. "Now, it is possible to traverse freely from one side to the other."

"Wow, that _is_ a neat trick," Dan finally said. If wizards could do this, he wondered why they even needed to go out.

"It's a little more complex than a 'trick', Mr. Granger, but the sentiment is appreciated," Dumbledore said. The flames changed back to orange again. "The flames will not change if anyone is in the fireplace," he continued. "However, do not leave the connection open for too long, because it could produce an ashwinder and risk setting fire to the surroundings. And I would advise you to only use it in case of emergency, or with an appointment. Much less paperwork that way. Now, for the matter of the protections on the house…" He reached back into the trunk and lifted out a stack of flagstones that appeared to be inscribed with Norse writing. "These are rune stones. They are used to power strong and lasting magic that cannot be cast with a wand alone. I will need to place one at each corner of your property and another at each corner of the outer walls of the house. Once in place, they will produce a magical shield that will keep out any attackers long enough for you to escape. If you do not mind, I will place them now."

Dan and Emma whispered to each other, but Dan said, "Might as well." He put on a jacket and led Dumbledore outside.

It must have been a strange sight to any neighbours watching, Emma thought, with Dan wandering around with a torch in hand, looking for the corners of the property and what looked like an old man in pyjamas following and placing stones in strategic locations. Of course, what the Grangers didn't know was that there was no chance of any neighbours watching, since Dumbledore had cast a Notice-Me-Not Charm on the pair of them. After placing each stone, Dumbledore would mutter an incantation, and the stone would glow briefly before sinking into the ground and being covered with soil.

Emma and the children watched from the door. Hermione was fascinated by the complex procedures used to place the protections, by Harry clung to Emma's skirts with growing concern. "M-M-Mum…?" he said. He was gradually getting better about the names.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Mr. Dumbledore said that Vol…Vol-dee-mort might come back?" He sounded out the name.

Emma sighed and put an arm around Harry's shoulder. "Yes, Mr. Dumbledore thinks he's still alive somewhere."

Harry started shivering. "But…but…why does he want me?" he stammered.

"Because he's a very evil man. He doesn't like that you escaped him before, and that's why Mr. Dumbledore thinks he might come back for you."

Harry grew alarmed and started to cry. "But now he'll come here…? He'll come for you, too! You shouldn't have taken me!"

"No!" Emma picked the boy up and held him tight. "Don't ever think that, Harry. Mr. Dumbledore told us about Voldemort before, and we still wanted you—even Hermione."

Harry looked up to meet her eyes, still sniffling. "Really?"

"Yeah!" Hermione said from below.

"Of course we did," Emma continued. "You're part of our family now, and we're not ever going to let an insane magical terrorist change that. Mr. Dumbledore and some other wizards are going to protect us, and we're all going to help you and Hermione learn to protect yourselves, too. So if Voldemort ever does come back, we'll be ready for him."

Harry cracked a small smile and rubbed his head against his new mum's shoulder, still too emotional to speak. Emma looked back to the others, wishing she were half as confident as she sounded. They watched as Dumbledore continued his work.

Dumbledore himself, oblivious for once to the conversation at the door, spoke with Dan a little as he cast the wards, asking how Harry was adjusting. He was delighted to hear that the boy appeared to have no lasting injuries and had already made friends at school. He laughed to hear about him regrowing his hair and said that that sounded very much like his father. He also asked about the adoption process to make sure everything was on track.

"By the way," he said as they neared the end of the work. "Were you planning on changing Harry's surname with the adoption?"

"Probably," Dan answered. "Why?"

"Well, that is perfectly acceptable, of course, but I must warn you that for complex legal reasons, the name change would not be accepted in the magical world."

"Why not?" Dan said suspiciously, turning to face Dumbledore.

Dumbledore squinted in the torchlight and said, "Fame aside, in simplest terms, Harry is heir to a seat on the Wizengamot, and only he himself will have the right to change the family name when he comes of age."

"The Wizen…gamot? Your magical Parliament?"

"Correct. This is of no present importance, of course—merely an early notice for when Harry reenters the magical world. Ah, here is the last one." He broke off the conversation, leaving Dan to mull over his words in private. At the last stone, he spoke a much longer incantation. Suddenly, a luminous, transparent, orange shell flashed into being around the house and property and just as quickly vanished.

"Wow…" Harry and Hermione exclaimed from their vantage point at the door.

"Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," the Headmaster said when he came back in the house. "I will certainly breathe easier knowing that you are protected here."

"I think we can agree on that," Emma replied.

"As for certification, you can go to any major chain bank and tell the teller that you are there on Gringotts business. They will provide a wizard liaison to navigate you through the process, for a nominal fee."

"Thank you," Dan said.

"Now, there are just a few more things here," he continued. He returned to his trunk and pulled out two necklaces, which he handed to Dan and Emma. On each one hung a silver medallion it inscribed with more Norse writing. "These are Anti-Anti-Muggle Charms," he explained, "normally given to muggle parents of Hogwarts students. While you wear them, you will be able to see things that are normally hidden from muggles, such as the magical shopping district in London, and Hogwarts itself."

Dumbledore then pulled two large books from the trunk and placed them on the coffee table. "I believe you requested information about magical history. _A History of Magic_ is the Hogwarts history textbook up through fifth year and covers general historical knowledge, particularly in Britain, up to the end of Grindelwald's War. _Modern Magical History _is the most popular reference for more recent history, including the war against Voldemort—although it sadly follows the current fashion of refusing to print his name."

The family wondered at that last comment, but Dumbledore wasn't done. Last of all, he pulled two framed pictures out of the trunk. "I also thought you might like to have some family pictures," he said lightly, handing one over to Emma. "This is a portrait of the Fawley Family taken in 1939."

Emma gasped when she saw a crisp, vibrant colour photograph of a middle-aged couple in robes surrounded by four children, one of whom was unmistakably her mother at age fourteen. "Mr. Dumbledore, I…I can't thank you enough…" she said with tears in her eyes as the others gathered around to see. "I never had any pictures of my grandparents."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Granger. And the other photograph is for Harry."

"Me, sir?"

"Yes, my boy. I was dismayed to see that your aunt had no pictures of her sister or her family in her home, so I was able to find this one for you." He turned the frame around to reveal a picture of a young couple holding their infant son. Only Dumbledore knew that both pictures were magical photographs frozen for public display, but in a muggle home, they would fit right in.

"That's…that's me?" Harry asked. "And my parents—my birth parents?"

"Yes, they are. It was taken on your first birthday, I believe."

Harry gazed silently at the image, and a wistful smile crept over his face. Dan and Emma regarded the picture: baby Harry was being held up by a young man with his same uncontrollable hair and the same face, right down to the glasses, and again by a young woman with auburn hair. It was obvious from the picture that the boy had gotten his piercing green eyes from his mother.

Emma picked up Harry and held him close. "Thank you, Mr. Dumbledore," she said again. Dan nodded his agreement.

"It is a pleasure to be of assistance," the old wizard replied, doffing his cap. "If there is nothing else, I shan't keep you any later. Good evening." He threw another handful of floo powder in the fireplace, and in a blink, he was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, and we commend her bravery for allowing her fans to run free with her work.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Minerva McGonagall located the address Albus had given her. It certainly looked nicer than the boy's previous accommodations. Those had not been in a bad neighbourhood, but the houses here were a little more spaced out, with more trees and green space between them. The house itself looked a little larger, too, but of course, as she knew well, it was the people in the house who mattered. From what Albus had told her, the Grangers sounded like a good family, but she would be sure to investigate them for herself very carefully.

She arrived in the neighbourhood early in the morning, even before breakfast, and immediately took up position next door as a large, grey tabby watching through the windows. She wouldn't exactly be dining in luxury this morning, but she was willing to do a lot for Harry Potter. In an act that she would never have let her students see (or, indeed, many of her colleagues), she quickly caught herself a vole for breakfast. She had gotten quite good at it in her younger and more adventurous days, but it was hardly a dignified act for a teacher.

Even by cat standards, Minerva could fix quite a stare. She spent most of the morning watching the Granger family atop a chair from which she could see into the kitchen window. Though they knew she was coming later, they gave no indication that they suspected her. She was relieved to find that things looked perfectly normal, at least as far as she could see from there. It was hard to get a clear look at the boy, and he did look small and quiet, but she could make out the mother making breakfast and the two kittens—ah, the two _children_ sitting at the table, talking and laughing. She didn't need Albus's report to know that wasn't something that was likely to have happened at the Dursley residence, nor was it when the father came in and hugged both of them.

The family spent the rest of the morning in ordinary activities: doing a few chores, the children playing and watching the muggle "telly". Nothing seemed to be amiss, and Minerva took comfort in the thought that Albus had finally made the right decision—or perhaps had allowed the right decision to be made.

She waited until after lunch (a fresh mouse for her and a plate of sandwiches for the family) and at the agreed-upon time darted off a couple houses down the street where she could untransform without being seen. She walked back up the street in November chill in her black robes and a hat that she hoped would be inconspicuous enough. Coming up to the house as if it were her first time seeing it, she rang the doorbell (such an odd way to announce oneself, she thought).

A tall, brown-haired man answered the door and looked her up and down, assessing Minerva, she could tell, as the second magical person he had ever met besides the children—goodness, and Albus with his eccentric mode of dress had been the first.

"Good afternoon. Mr. Granger, I presume?" she said.

"Yes. You must be Professor McGonagall," Dan replied warmly, shaking her hand. At this point, he was glad to see that not everyone in the magical world looked as absurd as Albus Dumbledore, although the witch's robes could hardly be called the height of fashion. "Please come in."

He led the way to the living room, where Minerva was introduced to a matching mother and daughter, and the family's newly adopted son. She couldn't help but stare at the boy. Even at his age, he was a spitting image for another boy who had been her best student in many a year not a decade earlier—except for the eyes, of course. When she saw him staring back at her, she blinked slowly at him, and he returned the gesture. She smiled, and the boy nervously smiled back. It was far too rare that she met someone who actually understood how to communicate with a cat. After all, the students' cats mostly stayed in the dorms, and none of Filch's had ever been much for conversation; most of her fellow humans were completely oblivious, though perhaps she could change that here.

"Have a seat," Emma Granger said when they were all acquainted. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please—milk, no sugar," she answered. Back in human form, she felt the need to get the taste of rodent out of her mouth.

Emma brought the tea, and Minerva sipped it thoughtfully and said, "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, before we begin, I must apologise for my role in facilitating the mistreatment that Harry has suffered. I had warned Professor Dumbledore that his relatives were wholly unsuited as guardians, but at the time, I trusted his judgement. I see now that I should have taken a firmer hand, or else followed up afterwards."

The Grangers sat and processed this for a moment. She could tell that they were rightfully unhappy with the news, but Emma told her, "Well, at least you were trying to look out for him. There were clearly a great deal more mistakes made than just your own."

Inwardly, she was relieved, but she nodded and turned her attention to the boy. "Harry," she said with what, to her, was a warm smile, "I understand you recently spent quite some time living as a cat."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Becoming an animagus is normally extremely difficult. I have never known a witch or wizard to complete the transformation with less than a year of intense study. I will understand if you don't wish to dredge up unpleasant memories, but I wonder if might you be able to tell me precisely how you were first able to change into a cat."

Harry looked to his new parents, who nodded to him, and he nervously began to tell her. Minerva fought to control her anger at his description of his relatives and listened in cool assessment. If she had hoped for some new insight into the animagus transformation, she was disappointed. His explanation was textbook accidental magic: intense fear and an overpowering desire to escape. The precise form that the magic took ought to have been impossible…but was it really? There were few real limits to accidental magic. She wouldn't have batted an eye if his escape had taken the form of apparition or disillusionment, both very advanced skills. The boy might have just stumbled upon a rare variation.

No, the real puzzle was how he was able to replicate the feat. "It is very impressive that you could achieve such a feat of magic at your age, Mr. Potter," she said. "Could you then demonstrate this skill to me?"

Harry looked, and Dan nodded to him again. He lowered his eyes and frowned in concentration for a few seconds, and then his form was replaced by a small black kitten.

Minerva was shocked. Albus had told her he had seen him transform, but she had assumed that it would take a few minutes of meditation. The boy was nothing like a novice; he looked well practised, and by the time he came to Hogwarts, he would probably be able to make the change instantly on command.

"Quicker than I expected, Harry," she said. "Pardon me, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, but since the matter is at hand, I think it might be better if Harry and I continue this conversation without the species barrier."

"Do you mean you're going to—?" Dan started.

"Indeed." With that, Minerva changed into a grey tabby cat with prominent black stripes around her eyes. She noted that Harry's form had no marking for his glasses and wondered if it was because he first changed before he got the glasses. Or perhaps it was just that they matched his hair.

She relaxed her usual stiff posture and took a more neutral body position, but Harry started back all the same and lay low, watching her warily with his ears pricked up and his tail lowered. As a kitten wandering alone, she knew he probably hadn't had too many good experiences with other cats. She lowered her own posture a little, and they exchanged blinks again to reassure him that everything was still alright.

Now it was time to really investigate. She had partially used Harry as an excuse to change into cat form, as he was only one of many things she wanted to check out. Using her well-honed feline sixth sense, she regarded the family carefully. She had noticed that the tom and queen—ah, there she went again, so easy to fall into the cat's thought patterns—that Dan and Emma, who only stared when Harry changed, still flinched a little when a grown woman did the same, while Hermione laughed with glee and clapped her hands a couple of times. They were clearly new to magic, but they were doing an admirable job of adjusting to it so quickly, and if Albus was to be believed, they were learning all they could so as not to be caught out behind. Indeed, she had seldom seen any muggle parents take such news so well, let alone anyone who had had to worry about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

What Minerva suspected as a human, she could now confirm as a cat. She sensed no duplicity from the Grangers, nothing to trip her feline sense for the untrustworthy. They genuinely cared for Harry, and they already thought of him as their own son. It was plain to see to her in the way they carried themselves: though barely visible to humans, cats could pick up a fantastic amount of information from body language. And from smell. The Granger house smelled…like family. Looking past the smells of food and some sterile smells that might have been associated with teeth healing, joy, comfort, and love permeated the air. There was plenty of anxiety, too, but no dislike, no serious division.

The other part was to check over Harry himself. Verbal communication was quite rudimentary for cats, but it was usable. Minerva meowed something that roughly translated to, _Boy-Kitten, follow, please_, before she climbed down off the chair.

Harry took his defencive position again in surprise for a moment upon hearing her "speak". Apparently, the other cats he had met had not been much for conversation, either. But he followed her off the sofa.

Only a few steps away, just far enough to have room, the two cats circled around each other. Minerva radiated an air of friendliness through her body language, which Harry was surprised he could pick up on. He let her in close enough that she could smell him clearly. He was a very anxious boy, from the smell, which was only to be expected, but he also smelled genuinely happy, curious, and comfortable in his new home.

Harry also got a clear smell from Minerva, but he stepped back as he tried to process it. He gave a meow that translated to, _I don't understand smells_.

_Smells are hard_, she meowed back. _You will learn with practice. How did you live outside?_ It was as good a time as any to get his side of the story unfiltered. After all it was hard to lie as a cat and even harder to lie _to_ a cat.

_Ate mice and food humans didn't want. Slept anywhere it was warm. Tried to find a human-servant, but found a family instead._

Minerva smiled, as much as a cat could, at the kitten's natural use of the feline word for "owner". She had forgotten how easy it was talking to a fellow animagus. His simple explanation conveyed much more about his feelings for life on the road, and even a few of the details, than the words alone. _Be careful outside_, she warned him. _Loud-rolling-things are the worst predators_.

Harry nodded his head at that, causing Hermione and even their parents a little bit to giggle at what looked like a perfectly normal conservation carried out entirely in meows.

_What is your new family like?_ she continued.

Harry perked up, and his tail bent into a downward-facing arc with excitement. _Sire and Dam are very nice. Don't hiss and scratch like old parents' bad litter-mates. Help groom and feed me and new Girl-Litter-Mate. Girl-Litter-Mate is smart. She is shy and likes human word-papers, but we make friends together. She likes cats, too._

Any human could have seen that last bit. As for Minerva, she could smell the joy coming off the kitten. The boy did like it here, and he loved his new family. It was a sense as clear as she could have gotten from talking to him in human form all afternoon. She twitched her tail with relief that the problem of his disastrous upbringing was being resolved so well. Now for the _other_ issue. _Is Old Wizard nice to you? _she asked_._

_Old Wizard hides a lot. Thinks about many other things. But sorry he messed up and protects us from Bad Wizard. Gives look-memories of old parents._

Minerva nodded. She wondered if Albus had any idea how much the boy had picked up from him. _I will visit sometimes. You tell me if Old Wizard causes trouble. _Harry hesitated, but nodded back. She changed back to human form and turned to the others. "Well," she said, "I am very glad to see that Mr. Potter has found a loving and welcoming family."

Even though they had seen the conversation for themselves, Dan and Emma were surprised that it contained that much substance. Hermione was clearly brimming with questions. They looked to Harry, but the kitten was still there and had started licking his paws. Minerva made a note to give them some tips on preventing hairballs.

"Harry," Emma called. The kitten changed back to human form. "He's been doing that a lot," she said. "He doesn't change back until we call him."

"He's been waking up as a cat every other day, too," Dan added.

"Hmm, that _is_ a little unusual," Minerva said. "Harry, could you show me where you have been sleeping?"

"Yes ma'am." He led her to the guest bedroom that was slowly being converted to a little boy's room. It didn't look quite lived-in, yet, but it didn't look out of the ordinary.

Minerva had a suspicion that it wasn't the room. "Can you show me _how_ you sleep?" she asked as the Grangers fell in behind her in the hall.

"Mm-hmm." The boy flopped down onto the bed, adjusted his limbs a little, then lay still on his stomach.

"Ah, that's simple, then," she said. "You're still sleeping like a cat." He pushed himself part-way back up and looked back at her. "Harry, I know it will be more uncomfortable for you, but you should try to sleep on your back. It will help you get used to being human again."

Harry rolled over and tried lying on his back for a few moments, but he quickly sat up.

"That's alright, Harry, it will take some time to adjust." She turned to Dan and Emma when they returned to the living room: "I'm not surprised to see cat-like behaviour after spending so long in that form. Some animal traits always persist, but you may wish to help Harry suppress the more obvious ones." And she explained the basics of how cats interact with those around them: the association of prolonged eye contact with aggression, a slow blink or other ways of showing vulnerability as a sign of trust, huddling in a small space to withdraw, and, of course, rubbing and stroking as a sign of affection. There was a lot more, but there would be a lot fewer headaches and less emotional distress if they understood those first few things, and she was pleased to see that the family was absorbing them well.

The Grangers responded with a few of Harry's idiosyncrasies that they had observed: sunning himself in the window, occasionally stalking around the house on all fours, licking his hands when he was bored or distracted. They were all perfectly normal for a cat, but they looked more than a little odd for a human. They had noticed his propensity to sleep a lot, too, but it was hard to tell if that was his feline side or if Harry just wasn't a morning person. Minerva agreed that the more obvious behaviour might need some active correction, and they should focus on that, while the minor things could safely slide. Of course, they should watch carefully how Harry was around other people, since there was a fine line between eccentric and just plain crazy.

Once they had gotten the matters of cat-animagus care settled, Hermione finally got a chance to ask her question: "Professor, can you teach me how to turn into a cat?"

Minerva was caught off guard for a moment, and it took a couple more moments to register why. No child, even at Hermione's age, would think to ask such a question in the wizarding world, but it was a perfectly logical question for a muggle-born who had never been taught otherwise. "I'm afraid not, Hermione," she said. "For one thing, your animagus form is determined by your personality and animal nature, if you even have the innate skill to do it. Yours would most likely not be a cat. But more importantly, learning the skill the normal way is very difficult and can be dangerous…I _might_ be willing to consider it if you had a very good reason." After all, James and Sirius hadn't exactly been discreet about their questions. "But certainly not before you began attending at Hogwarts."

"Oh…" Hermione said in disappointment.

"Transforming is a very rare skill," Minerva explained. "Very few witches and wizards go to the trouble of learning it. I only did myself as part of my studies on transfiguration. You'll have a great deal of more useful magic to learn when you come to school."

Hermione looked partially appeased by that, and Minerva turned back to her parents. "Now, Professor Dumbledore tells me Harry is doing well in school?" she said. "Catching up with the other children and making friends?"

"Surprisingly well, considering he missed two months," Emma said. "He's still adjusting, of course, but Hermione's been helping him learn to read, so he has that going for him, and as far as we can tell, he's been enjoying himself."

"That's good to hear, Mrs. Granger. Have you had any other problems with him so far?"

"Well…it's not a problem so much as it's unusual," Dan said. "Harry is probably the only little boy we know who _doesn't_ have a sweet tooth. We don't eat all that much sugar in this house, Professor, but Harry claims that a lot of what we do eat tastes sweet to him. Now, I don't if that's because he didn't get that from his relatives, or…"

Minerva was caught between a smile and a frown. "Given what I've heard, that is certainly possible," she said, "but I think there is a simpler explanation."

"What's that?"

"Cats cannot taste sugar."

"Really? I did not know that."

"Indeed, Mr. Granger, and an animagus's tastes often carry over into their human form. I usually find typical dinner fare sweet enough for my tastes, rather than desert. At Harry's age, it will be different, but even so, am I right in thinking that Harry has also shown a preference for meat?"

"Definitely," Emma confirmed. "Red meat especially."

"I thought so. Cats are almost entirely carnivorous, even more so than dogs. You may have some…unique challenges in teaching him to eat a balanced diet."

_Because having a son who can turn into a cat isn't unique enough_, they thought. "Thank you for warning us," Emma said. "Is there any way we can contact you if we have more questions?"

"A letter addressed to me at Hogwarts and sent through the muggle post system will be delivered, although it is not as fast as an owl. Please feel free to contact me anytime. I will be happy to help Harry with any troubles he may be having, especially feline-related."

"Thank you, Professor," Dan repeated.

"Now, there is one other thing." She paused to make sure all four of them were listening. "It is _very_ important that no one finds out that Harry is an animagus, even in the magical world. All animagi are required by law to register with the Ministry of Magic, but Professor Dumbledore and I agree that with the unique risks to him, he would be safer if it is not known. He must also be careful in using it so as not to cause trouble. The penalty for failure to register by itself is only a fine, but the Ministry deals harshly with any other crimes committed by an animagus, registered or not. We will support him if such a matter ever comes up, but that will only go so far."

Dan and Emma paled a little at being advised to actively defy the law, by a respected teacher, no less, even if they could see the wisdom of it. They wanted to instill their children with a healthy respect for authority, but then again, from what they had heard about wizarding politics, maybe a healthy scepticism would be better. They stepped back and whispered to each other for a minute. It was hard to hear, but Minerva could tell they were uncomfortable with it, and not without reason. She picked up something about having five years to think about it.

"Professor, we don't anticipate any problems with that if that's how things are set up," Dan said carefully when they concluded. "And we'll certainly teach Harry to be discreet about using his ability."

"Very good, Mr. Granger. Harry, I like your new family very much. I know they will be very good for you. I hope to hear good things about you in the coming years." Harry smiled at her. "And Hermione?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"You're Harry's older sister, now, and as such, I expect you to keep him out of trouble."

"Yes, ma'am," the girl said with a grin.

"Well, I must be returning to school," Minerva said, shaking the Grangers' hands on the way out. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," Harry called after her and waved, to the surprise of his family. Meeting another cat seemed to have done wonders for his shyness.

Minerva left the meeting with a rare, if subtle, smile on her face. It had been a hard year, between losing her husband last spring to Venomous Tentacula and then Albus managing to misplace Harry Potter in more ways than one, but at least the boy was as well off now as she ever could have hoped. She was humming to herself all the way back to the castle.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling. Any and all cats may or may not be owned by Erwin Schrodinger.

A/N: Things are picking up a little in this chapter, but there's still quite a lot going on before Harry and Hermione receive their Hogwarts letters.

My apologies if Christmas seems too Americanised. It was hard enough to find information about popular gifts in 1985 on my side of the pond.

My knowledge of karate comes exclusively from movies and the Internet, so I've been deliberately light on the details, and I make no promises on accuracy. Corrections are welcome.

Finally, thanks to carick of hunter moon for clarifying the terminology of Parliament vs. Lords.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

_December 1985_

A small, red Austin Metro pulled into the driveway at the Granger residence, the back seat filled with luggage and colourfully-wrapped boxes. An elderly couple climbed out and within seconds was hit by a brown-haired missile screaming, "Grandma! Grandpa!" Grandpa Granger was ready, though, and scooped Hermione up in his arms when she reached him—well, mostly ready, she was starting to get too big for this, the way his back was protesting.

"Hey there, Princess," he said, twirling her around once before setting her down.

"How's my favourite granddaughter?" Grandma said as she gave the little girl a hug.

"I'm your _only_ granddaughter, Grandma," Hermione shot back, completing their usual exchange.

The three of them looked back to the front door, where Dan and Emma stood, Emma holding a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder.

"And this must be little Harry," Grandma said as they approached.

"Yes, ma'am—Grandma," Harry said as she grasped him firmly by the shoulders. He was trying not to stare too much, but it was hard when he was meeting new people and harder when they grabbed hold of him like that. He recognised Grandma and Grandpa from the pictures, of course, but it was a different matter to meet them in person.

Grandma eyed him up and down, noting how small he still looked. She frowned a little at the uncombed hair and the scar on his forehead, but she lightened up and gave him a reasonably gentle hug. "Well, it's good to meet you, Harry. Now I have a favourite grandson, too."

"Come here, Sport," Grandpa said and threw an arm around Harry. He fought the urge to push him away. Even after a month and a half as a human, he still preferred a little scratching behind the ears to an overzealous hug, but he could mostly only get that from Mum.

It was strange having grandparents, he thought. None of his birth grandparents were still alive, nor were Uncle Vernon's parents. It was strange being able to add two more friendly faces to his new family, at least for the few times when they could come down from Manchester.

"So you finally went and had another kid, Dan?" Grandpa told his son as he ruffled Harry's hair.

Dan smiled. "Yes, well, you know how it is. He showed up on our porch like a little lost kitten, and we just had to keep him."

The rest of the Grangers suppressed a snicker at that. They had told Dan's parents a little about Harry being abused, but nothing of the rest of the story. They had been annoyed to learn that grandparents were something of a grey area with regard to the Statute of Secrecy. They weren't really supposed to be told about magic, but the Ministry would look the other way if no one else found out. But since the only magic they could actually demonstrate was Harry's animagus ability, which was supposed to be even more secret, Dan and Emma reluctantly admitted to each other that it wouldn't do much good to tell them. When the kids went off to Hogwarts, it might be another matter, though.

"Come on, let's get the car unloaded," Dan said.

Grandma and Grandpa carried their luggage inside, while Dan and Emma helped with the rest, being sure to place the presents under the Christmas tree in preparation for the festivities two days hence.

* * *

The Dursley family was not having a happy Christmas season. Harry had been lucky enough that the magistrate allowed him to be interviewed on video without appearing in court for the trial. He had not seen his relatives once since he had run away and reportedly never intended to again. That was the one bright spot in their ordeal.

Despite their protests of innocence, with Harry's interview and the doctor's report in hand, the case against Vernon and Petunia Dursley was quickly closed. Their continued insistence that they were "very concerned because our nephew ran away", courtesy of Dumbledore's memory charm, came across not inaccurately as a blatant lie. Even the magistrate personally expressed his disgust at their behaviour. He had seen objectively much worse cases of abuse before, but keeping the boy in the cupboard was a new one on him. In the end, Petunia was sentenced to nine years in prison for child neglect, and Vernon was sentenced to the maximum ten years for neglect and assault, both of them receiving long sentences for singling out Harry in particular and hiding him from the authorities. The prison guards quickly made sure word got around their respective facilities about what they were in for.

Dudley had been sent to live with his Aunt Marge, who put him to work helping raise her dogs and generally took a much stricter hand with him hand than her brother, believing he needed to be "reformed" of his parents' mistakes. (It was all Petunia's bad influence, of course. She should have known with the way her sister had turned out.) Marge sold Number 4 Privett Drive to an older childless couple whom all the neighbours agreed were far more respectable than the previous residents. Hardly anyone noticed when the old cat lady, Arabella Figg, also sold her home to move back to the country.

* * *

Harry was awakened on the 25th of December by his exuberant sister jumping on the bed.

"Wake up, sleepyhead, it's Christmas!"

He heard her run back out of the room and down the hall to wake their parents and grandparents. Harry groaned and fumbled on the bedside table for his glasses. Christmas had never been very happy for him, but then he remembered that he had seen some of the presents under the tree with his name on them, so it was an improvement over last year. Actually, it had been a much better time than last year already. Everyone in the family was going out of their way to make up for the past four years and give him a truly memorable Christmas. They had started after Grandma and Grandpa arrived, making Grandma's "secret recipe" Christmas cookies. Then last night had featured a splendid Christmas Eve dinner, lots of laughs singing Christmas carols badly, and a candlelight church service that Harry had enjoyed far more than he expected. The few times the Dursleys had taken him to church had always seemed to feature snide comments about "freaks" like him getting struck by lightning.

He rolled over onto his stomach and stretched. By now, this was usually the most cat-like part of his day—not without some effort, but at least he was waking up in human form on most days. That would have been awkward with Grandma and Grandpa around.

He checked the clock, now that he could actually tell time. It was 6:43 AM, which Mum and Dad would later say showed admirable restraint on Hermione's part. Well, he could tell his sister wouldn't be deterred, so he stumbled, bleary-eyed, out of his bedroom.

Grandma and Grandpa were already up and were snickering as Hermione dragged an equally bleary-eyed Mum and Dad out of their bedroom. Dad shared a sympathetic look with his son when he saw the boy's excitement was also tempered by the early hour. Harry was improving, but he was by no means back on a human sleep schedule.

"Happy Christmas, everyone!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Mmm…Happy Christmas," Mum replied, with the rest of the family haphazardly repeating her.

"Come on, let's go open presents!" Hermione dashed off down the stairs. _Unstoppable force, that one_, they thought. Both parents blamed the other's side of the family for that trait.

Harry followed Hermione down the stairs, for some reason half-expecting to see Albus Dumbledore dressed up as Father Christmas in the living room, but it was not to be. He soon noticed, though, that there were more presents under the tree than there were last night. On closer inspection, he also noticed that some of the new presents had his name on them, which honestly made him more suspicious than anything else. Either there were some issues with Santa's naughty and nice lists, or something else was going on.

But still, presents! That was something he could get behind—probably would have already if he had been more awake. Uncle Vernon had given him a sock last year—one sock, as a gag—so he couldn't technically say he had never gotten Christmas presents before, but this Christmas was already better than the previous four put together.

Luckily, the adults didn't make them wait until after breakfast, although Mum did bring out a plate of toast for the family. Sitting around the Christmas tree, they cajoled Hermione to pass out the gifts to everyone, with Harry helping a little, although he was distracted by how large his pile was growing. In the end, both children had a substantial pile of gifts, roughly equal, and all of the adults had a few.

"Why don't you open one first, Harry?" Mum said.

Harry nodded, wide-eyed, and considered his pile. He snatched a present off the top, one of them that had mysteriously appeared from Father Christmas, and cautiously tore off the paper. By Dudley's standards it would have been fairly mundane—a simple toy truck. In fact, it wouldn't have even stood out among the several toys Mum and Dad had bought him when he moved in last month, but it was his first real present, and he laughed with joy because he couldn't think of anything else to do as he held it up.

There was a click and flash of light, and he looked over to see Dad winding the film on the camera. He saw grins all around as his entire family looked as pleased as he was about the situation, and he silently thanked again whatever power had brought him here.

"Well, it looks like _someone_ likes it," Grandma said as Harry started to roll the truck on the carpet.

"Can't beat the classics, can you?" Grandpa added.

"Okay, Hermione, your turn," Dad said, saving Harry from having to figure out what happened next.

Hermione picked a small, rectangular parcel off her pile and carefully unwrapped it to reveal a copy of one of the old _Winnie the Pooh_ books. She read off the title and then placed it by her feet as the start of what would clearly become a stack on them.

Mum, Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa each took their turns opening gifts from each other, although Hermione had also given them small trinkets. Harry, being new to the family and less experienced with gift giving, was off the hook on that. A few presents later, it turned out that Father Christmas had given Harry some random toys and had given Hermione some random books and toys. But when Harry reached a present labelled from Grandma and Grandpa, things began to change.

It was a fairly large box, easily large enough for his kitten form to fit inside, but it was light-weight, and when he opened it, he found a large, brown teddy bear. What really caught his eye, though, was that the bear had his name embroidered in red across its chest. There was no question about this toy. It was _his_. After all the grief Dudley had always given him by hogging the toys, that meant more to Harry than his grandparents knew.

"We didn't know what kind of toys you liked," Grandma explained, "but we thought every little boy needs a teddy bear."

"It's great!" Harry said. "Thanks, Grandma. Thanks, Grandpa." In a move that shocked everyone, he got up and hugged both of his grandparents unprompted.

"Oh, you're very welcome, dear," Grandma said as she hugged him back.

Harry sat back down, still holding the bear. Meanwhile, Hermione's came to one of her presents that was the wrong size and shape to be a book, and when she opened it, all she could say was, "Oh, wow, that's a lot of colours." After all, it's not every day that one receives a box of 72 crayons.

They kept going, and as they got toward the end of the piles, Harry also came to a rectangular present that was the wrong size and shape for a book, but is his case, it turned out to be a video tape like the ones Dudley liked, and his aunt and uncle never let him watch. "_The Sword in the Stone_," Harry grinned as he successfully read the title.

"It's about King Arthur," Dad said. "We've got the book around here somewhere, but it might be a few years before you're ready to read it."

Harry nodded as he examined the box. He couldn't help but notice that the picture on the front included a skinny little boy, and owl, and an old man who looked surprisingly like…

"That looks like Mr. Dumbledore."

"Let me see," Hermione ordered, leaning over to look at the box. "It does!" she agreed.

"Yes, Mum and I thought so, too. We'll have to ask him about it," Dad said with a wink.

"Who's Mr. Dumbledore?" Grandpa asked.

"Harry's caseworker, of all people," Dad told him. "Long white hair and beard, and you wouldn't believe the way that man dresses. I've seen it, and I still don't believe it."

"Ahh…" From what Grandpa had heard about Harry's past, he had to wonder if that explained a few things, but he kept that thought to himself.

"Can we watch it today?" Hermione asked with excitement.

"Sure we can. We'll watch it this afternoon," Dad said. "Why don't you go ahead and open another one, now."

"Oh, right." Hermione picked up a large present, and a fairly heavy one for its size. She peeled the paper off and gasped in surprise to see not one book, but seven, which were thicker ones than she had been reading so far. She looked the top of the box and identified the gift: a complete boxed set of _The Chronicles of Narnia_. There had, unsurprisingly, been a theme toward fantasy in the children's gifts this year. Hermione hugged Mum and Dad in thanks and set the box beside her stack of individual books.

"That should keep her busy for a solid month," Mum said, considering that it was probably above even Hermione's prodigious reading level.

"Ha, if we're lucky," Dad said.

Mum put on a mock frown. "We've created a monster, haven't we?"

"You're just figuring that out now?"

Mum broke and chuckled at that before saying, "Go on, Harry, open another one."

Harry picked up a crudely-wrapped cubical box. It was very light for its size, and he saw that the tag said it was from Hermione. At least he was pretty sure it did—he still wasn't a hundred percent sure about how to spell her name. Wondering what his sister could possibly have gotten him—perhaps another stuffed animal—he tore off the paper and opened the lid, and when he did, he burst out laughing.

Inside the box was a giant, multi-coloured ball of yarn. He took it out, eyes wide, and started batting it with his hands with a smile before he remembered that there was company present. Hermione and Mum both smiled at him. They seemed to be the only ones in on the joke, though, since Dad hid his face with his palm, and Grandma and Grandpa simply looked confused.

"A ball of yarn?" Grandma asked.

Luckily, Mum knew this was coming, so she had an answer prepared: "Hermione is _convinced_ that Harry was raised by cats. And Harry always has to encourage her, so we thought it was the perfect gift."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said. His sister grinned at him.

"Raised by cats, eh?" Grandpa joked. "How are you at catching mice?"

Harry didn't notice his parents tense up at that. Not quite getting the joke nor realising how close he was coming to a forbidden topic, he just smiled and said, "Pretty good."

Hermione grimaced a little, knowing that her brother was being completely serious, but the tension eased when Grandpa roared with laughter. "Dan, you never told us he was that sharp," he said.

"Well, he…does have his moments."

Mum and Dad were silently relieved when Hermione came to her next gift, one from her grandparents, but the situation unravelled further when she opened it and revealed a stuffed Scottie dog. It had a red ribbon tied around its neck embroidered with her name.

"Thanks, Grandma. Thanks, Grandpa…Look, Harry." She waved the dog at him and started barking: "Ruff! Ruff! Ruff ruff ruff!"

After the last joke, everyone laughed at that one. Harry playfully batted the dog away. His sister persisted, hoping she could get him to hiss at it, but Harry found he didn't mind the dog so much for some reason. True, dogs tended to cause trouble for cats, but this one was pretty small, even using his imagination. Or maybe he just had a soft spot for black dogs.

But now, Harry was down to his last gift, and his Mum suppressed a groan as she remembered what that gift was. And it had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Harry hadn't received many books. After all, he was still in picture books, and Hermione already had a whole library of those for him to read, but this was a new title called…

"_If You Give a Mouse a Cookie_," Harry read off, to the snickers of his sister and grandparents. He paused and thought for a moment as he looked at the picture of a mouse eating cookies and milk. "Will it taste better?" he said innocently.

That was too much. Even Mum and Dad laughed at that one. Hermione was literally rolling on the floor, despite her usual disgust for the thought of eating mice, Grandma nearly fell out of her seat, and Grandpa was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. Harry wasn't sure what was so funny. After all, he knew the mouse _wouldn't _taste better because cats couldn't taste sugar. But the laughter was so infectious that he was quickly caught up in it. In fact, he couldn't remember when he'd laughed so hard before. It was a long time until the family calmed down enough for Hermione to open her final gift.

Harry's gift to Hermione, the lone gift he had given, was obviously wrapped with their mother's handiwork, but he had helped pick it out at the store. It was much smaller than his ball of yarn—small and rectangular and shaped suspiciously like many of her other gifts, but it wasn't yet another chapter book.

It was a small, red book bound in faux-leather. The pages were blank, for on the cover, the word "Diary" was embossed in gold script, and above it, the word "HERMIONE'S" was spelt out in reasonably nice-looking gold stickers. For a six-year-old, it was a pretty high-quality diary, and her eyes lit up when she saw it.

"Harry, it's wonderful! Thank you!" Hermione exclaimed. Without warning, she pounced on him and hugged him. He tried to squirm away, but as she had learnt to do surprisingly quickly, she reached a hand up and scratched him behind his right ear, which soothed him for a moment. The gesture was not missed by their grandparents who started laughing again.

"Uh, you're welcome, Hermione," Harry mumbled, trying to remember his manners. Fortunately, his sister let him go before he could cause a scene.

After a lavish Christmas dinner that was probably the most Harry had ever eaten in one sitting and a truly mesmerising time watching _The Sword in the Stone_, not to mention playing with new toys and starting in on new books, Harry laid down with his teddy bear for the best sleep he'd had since joining the Granger Family.

* * *

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Granger,_

_On the matter of your most recent questions, I believe it will be more convenient if we speak via floo. I hope you will be able to meet at 4 in the afternoon on Saturday, the 28th to address these matters. Send a reply with the owl if there are any problems._

_Happy Christmas,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

So the Granger Family was gathered around the fireplace on Saturday afternoon, waiting for one Mr. Dumbledore's most unusual appearances. The children waited with excited anticipation, having just recently been told what this meeting was about. No one screamed this time when the flames turned green and the grey-bearded face appeared in their midst, but the looks on the Grangers' faces were still clearly unsettled by the appearance.

"Good afternoon," said Albus Dumbledore. "I hope your Christmas was pleasant."

Emma smiled weakly. "I'd like to say 'magical', but that might confuse things."

This earned her a small chuckle. "Indeed. Harry, I am glad to see you've settled into you're new home." The boy was currently sitting at his mother's feet, wear a new jumper, and, most amusingly, playing with a ball of yarn. He would have to tell Minerva. Perhaps she would actually laugh at that one.

Harry looked up and said, "Yes, sir."

"Mr. Dumbledore?" Hermione said from her oversize armchair, setting aside her book. She was very interested to learn about Harry, but there was something that had been nagging at her since Christmas.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Did Merlin really turn Arthur into all those animals?"

Even with Dumbledore's splendid mind, it took him a moment to switch gears at such an odd question. "Excuse me?"

"One of our films," Dan explained. "_The Sword in the Stone_—"

"Ah…" The title clicked. He remembered the occasional young muggle-born asking the same thing in the sixties, and come to think of it in the forties as well, when the book was published. "No, I'm afraid not. That was merely an invention of muggle storytellers."

"Did he discover Bermuda?" Harry said.

"What? I don't believe so, although I might wish to consult a biography of Merlin on that point. Mr. and Mrs. Granger, in your letter, you asked about Harry's status in our world—"

"Not exactly," Dan clarified. "We asked about what you said last month: Harry _inherited_ a seat on your…Wizengamot—your, what, magical Lords? Does that mean Harry is a Lord in your world?"

"The terminology does not correspond exactly, but yes. As the last surviving Potter, Harry is the Head of the Noble House of Potter and a Lord of the Wizengamot. However, unlike the muggle Lords, the title is normally only used in the Wizengamot chambers and official correspondence."

Hermione squealed briefly. Normally used or not, her brother was a Lord, and nothing was going to ruin that for her.

"And this seat, is it vacant now?" Dan continued.

"No, there is no need to worry about that. As Harry's magical guardian, I appointed his second cousin Andromeda Tonks as his proxy until he comes of age. She was his closest living relative who was…suitable."

"I have cousins?" Harry perked up.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, you're going to have to back up for a minute," Emma talked over him. She had started writing in that notebook of hers again. "Magical guardian? What's that?"

Dumbledore looked a bit miffed at the digression, but he answered calmly, "Because muggle parents—typically—have very little knowledge or involvement in the magical world, all muggleborn children are appointed a Guardian in Magical Affairs to oversee their upbringing. For students attending Hogwarts, that role falls to the Headmaster, unless there are special circumstances."

"Which is you," Dan said darkly, groaning inwardly at the thought of the old wizard being personally responsible for the raising of more children.

"Indeed. In Harry's case, he was an orphan, and his godfather was…unavailable, so it fell to the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot to appoint a guardian for him."

"And he appointed you?"

"Well…in a manner of speaking. I myself sit as Chief Warlock."

"And, of course, you appointed yourself," Emma said, barely restraining herself from adding, _Why am I not surprised?_ "And what else does the Chief Warlock do?"

"Merely preside over the Wizengamot," Dumbledore said, not a little dismissively. "I believe the nearest equivalent in the muggle government would be the Lord Chancellor."

"What!" Dan, Emma, and Hermione all shouted at once. Harry just looked around, confused.

"You're a Cabinet minister?" Dan asked in shock before he forced himself to remember the small size of the magical world.

"That would be quite impossible, Mr. Granger, as the Ministry of Magic has no Cabinet."

"Even so, you say you're effectively the Lord Chancellor…and the Education Secretary, or close enough, _and_ the head of MI-5. Do you have any other titles we should know about?"

"Well, I've never heard it put quite that way, but there is one other. I also sit as Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, although that is considerably less impressive than it sounds in terms of actual influence."

Dan and Emma paled at that one. "International Confederation of Wizards?" Emma said, writing down the name. "And that's like, what, Secretary General of the UN or something?" She barely wanted to think about what more powerful sort of position it might mean in the magical world. It felt like a step short of having entertained royalty and not known it.

Luckily, Dumbledore quashed that notion, at least somewhat: "That might be a charitable interpretation, from what I understand of muggle politics. In all honesty, the only thing ICW has ever been united about is the Statute of Secrecy."

"Still, you're basically the most politically powerful wizard in the world, and you also run a school on the side?" Dan said. Something seriously unsettled him about this. It seemed like the more they dug into Dumbledore's professional life, the less it made sense. What was really going on here?

"No, no, you misunderstand me," the old wizard said. "I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts first. I merely make a hobby of moderating the fascinating political debates that occur in our world."

"But how did you come by all those titles in the first place?"

Unexpectedly, he smiled at this, and his eyes twinkled as he answered, "When you have lived as long as I have, Mr. Granger, you tend to accumulate a quite of number of unusual things."

Dan and Emma could help but stare at each other at the blatant evasion. By silent agreement, they dropped the subject. Something told them that continuing down this line would be unproductive or worse. The kids were also staring at them, now, looking for some clue as to what was going on.

"Okay, then…" Emma consulted her notes again. "Back to magical guardians. Is there any way we could take over that roll for our children?"

"Unfortunately not," Dumbledore said. "You of course do have broad rights as legal guardians in the magical world, but the law requires all magical children to also have a witch or wizard overseeing their affairs."

"I see," Emma said darkly. She flipped to the back of her notebook to where she had started a to-do list, to which she added, _Work to change anti-muggle laws_, and _Investigate magical guardian options other than Dumbledore_. The wizard in question showed a touch of nervousness as he wondered what she was writing. "There. Now, you said Harry had a cousin whom you appointed as a proxy." She motioned for Harry to get up off the floor and sit beside her. "I don't think you've told us anything about Harry's living family. What are they like."

Dumbledore's face fell. "Not good, I'm afraid," he said grimly, turning to face her son. "Harry, your grandmother, Dorea Potter, was born into the Black family, and while your grandmother was a good woman, most of the Blacks are known as dark wizards who don't like muggles or muggle-borns."

"Why, sir?" Harry said.

"Because many old families are more worried about holding onto their power than anything else. They don't like new families coming into the wizarding world. As it happens, you have four living second cousins through your grandmother's family, but I'm sorry to say that three of them worked for Voldemort in some form or other." Harry sucked in a sharp breath at so many of his own family turning on him—or at least on his birth parents—and being bad guys. Hermione didn't look much better. "But the fourth one, Andromeda, is a good woman," he continued. "She left her family and married a muggle-born wizard named Ted Tonks. She believes in fair treatment for muggles like your birth parents did, which is why I chose her to represent you on the Wizengamot."

"Do you think we could meet her?" Emma asked. "We'd love to meet whatever family he has left." Harry nodded enthusiastically. "And maybe she can teach Harry a few things about navigating wizarding politics before he reenters your world."

"Oh, I don't think there's any need to worry Harry with things like that at his age, Mrs. Granger."

"No, I think that's actually a good idea," Dan defended her.

"I have full confidence in Madame Tonks's ability to manage his affairs until he comes of age. There really is no need—"

_That's what we're afraid of_, Dan thought. "Mr. Dumbledore," he cut him off, "you wanted to keep Harry from too much exposure to his fame, which is good, but your plan would have him not learning about his heritage, and it sounds like that's pretty important. Especially with him holding a peerage and having to deal with that pureblood politics you told us about."

Harry was still looking back and forth between the adults, confused, but Hermione's eyes narrowed. Their parents hadn't said much about what they had talked about with Mr. Dumbledore before besides the threat from Voldemort, but she was starting to pick up on the fact that there were more subtle problems in the magical world.

"Isn't it better if he learns about that early?" Dan continued. "And am I right in thinking these rich pureblood families I've heard so much about teach _their_ children early?" The look on Dumbledore's face made it clear the answer was yes.

"Besides, we still want to meet her anyway," Emma gave him an out. "She _is_ Harry's only good magical family, after all."

"His _nearest_ magical family to be more precise—all of the old families are interrelated—but, yes, I can understand the sentiment," he said. "I will enquire with Madame Tonks about visiting you, though perhaps sometime next summer would be best, when you will have more time available."

After a look and a nod from her husband Emma said, "That would be acceptable. Thank you."

"Thank you, sir," Harry added.

"You're quite welcome, my boy. Is there anything else you wished to discuss? No? Then I really must get back to my preparations for the spring term. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year," the family replied.

The image of Dumbledore's face vanished from the fireplace, and the flames changed back to their normal green colour.

"I just had another one of those 'What the heck just happened,' moments," Dan said after a pause. It disturbed him to think that a conversation through the fireplace almost felt normal. He and Emma quickly got up and headed for the kitchen to process what they had learnt.

As soon as they left, Hermione slid out of her chair and whispered to Harry, "They always do that when something's wrong. I'm gonna check it out." She tiptoed over to the kitchen door—but not quietly enough.

"Hermione," he mother called.

"Sorry, Mummy." She ran back to her chair in embarrassment and opened her book again, but after about a minute, she had an idea. She looked up and grinned at her brother. "Harry, change to a cat and listen to what they're saying," she whispered.

Harry smiled back as he caught on. "Okay," he whispered. After a few seconds' concentration, he was on all fours and slunk over to the kitchen door. With his acute feline sense of hearing, he could make out every word.

"Talk about a steep learning curve," Mum said, pouring herself a cup of tea. Harry could smell it from outside—Earl Grey.

"I know," Dad replied. "I thought there was something up with Mr. Dumbledore before, but this…I don't even understand it. It's like he runs everything. How does that happen?"

"I don't know. And he didn't seem to want to talk about it either. He seems like a good enough guy and all, but it makes you wonder what he's doing behind the scenes."

"I just feel like we're missing something. The more I look, the less it seems to add up."

"Well, maybe this Madame Tonks can explain it. Or we can write Professor McGonagall—"

"We can ask, but they both work for Dumbledore."

"I know, but—" She stopped as something caught her eye. Looking over, she saw a small, black ear poking out from behind the door. "Harry."

There was a meow and a skitter of paws on the hardwood as the kitten sprinted away.

"They're both in on this together, Dan," Emma said with a chuckle. "Give our sweet, innocent daughter a brother, and look what happens."

"Hey, this was your idea."

"Oh, come on, you know you wanted him just as much as I did."

"Yes, I know, dear…What about that Gringotts guy? They seem pretty independent."

"Maybe, but they don't seem like the type to talk politics, especially with customers."

"Maybe not," Dan said. "It's odd, though. The pattern actually feels kind of familiar. It's just so hard to place with the magic and all. It's…it's like…it's small town politics," he realised with a snap of his fingers. "Remember how there's only ten thousand wizards in Britain? Their ministry has to be run like a town council—and it sounds like all the worst aspects of it, too. All the councillors are friends, they always help each other and get each other out of trouble, they all have important day jobs in the town, people hold multiple offices, everything runs on personal agendas…"

"My God, you're right," Emma said. "Everything we know about their civil war makes more sense that way. Including Dumbledore."

"_Especially_ Dumbledore. How else could he get away with what he did to Harry? It's like they're just _lettin_g him be the Local Education Officer, the Chief Constable, the Council Chairman, _and _an MP."

"I think we need to go back over _A History of Magic_ from the start. If it's more of a town history than a national one…I wonder how much _they_ think of it that way."

"Hard to say. They _do_ live it. The language may be different, but it sounds like that's how they do things."

"The question is how Dumbledore got so many titles on an international scale."

"That is the question, isn't it," Dan concluded. "Unless it's in the books, I think all we can do is ask around as we get the chance."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, wondering how his plans for Harry Potter had changed so much. The boy was sure to develop quite an independent streak with his new family if the parents were any indication. He supposed that was a good thing, on balance, but it certainly changed his calculus.

He had expected Harry Potter to arrive at Hogwarts in five and a half years, perhaps not having had the best childhood—certainly a sheltered one—but a decent one. He expected a shy boy, eager to learn, and with room to grow into his role as the Chosen One when he was old enough to deal with it. Instead, he had already escaped an abusive home and learnt a nearly-untraceable magical skill once thought impossible. Perhaps he would still turn out to be the shy type, like his new sister, but Albus doubted it.

He could see where things were going now. Under the Grangers' guidance, Harry would rejoin the wizarding world as politically savvy as James Potter, with Lily Evans's knack for standing up to people well-cultivated. Both were admittedly good qualities to prepare him to face Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but if the boy had also inherited his father's penchant for shaking things up, well, he hoped the wizarding world would be ready for him.

Albus decided to head down to the Hog's Head. Somehow, he felt like a conversation with Abe would be the _less_ stressful part of his day.

* * *

_January 1986_

The two children were subdued as their parents drove them through the city streets after school. A warm December had given way to a bitterly cold winter, and it was under a cold, grey sky that they travelled to their destination.

The Grangers had been lucky enough to find a dojo in the Crawley area that was highly rated and respected—and that, though they were very reluctant to put it that way, had a good chance of getting the kids up to a credible black belt level (minus the physical strength) before they left for "boarding school" in five years.

Most children would be excited at starting karate classes—well, maybe not the young bookworm so much—but Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were deadly serious. To the world, they were just two more kids learning karate early as a useful life skill, but in secret, they knew the truth. Today was the day they would start learning how to defend themselves from Voldemort.

The dojo was one of the more traditional-looking clubs, where the instructors wore white gis and answered to "sensei". An advanced class was just wrapping up, running through some moves that, to the kids at least, looked pretty impressive before filing out. At first glance, the club looked as serious as the two children, but it soon proved a bit lighter. The instructors were friendly and engaged with the children as they arrived. Harry and Hermione soon fell in line with about a dozen other children ranging in age from nine down to four, each wearing a plain white gi, and most of them looking happier than the pair, except for one or two who clearly just didn't want to be there.

As Dan and Emma watched from the back with a few other parents, the lead instructor introduced himself as Sensei John and started right in, first teaching the students to stand at attention and bow.

"Okay, but this time everyone do it together. Everyone bow and say, 'Hello, Sensei John.'"

"Hello, Sensei John." Most of the children mumbled it, or the smaller ones were too shy to speak, but Hermione's voice rang out clearly. She may not have been the most outgoing sort, but she was a stickler for following instructions.

"Very good. Do you know why we do that…? It's to show courtesy and respect. If the other teachers and I treat you nice, how are you going to treat us?"

"Nice," a couple of kids said.

"That's right. Now, courtesy and respect means that when I teach you karate, you have to use karate in a good way. And that means no punching your mum, your dad, your brother, your sister. That's not nice, is it?"

"No," a few voices answered.

"Say, 'No, Sensei John.'"

"No, Sensei John."

"Good. If you ever have to use karate outside of class, you only use it to stop people from hurting you, okay?"

Emma wondered if any of the other children would ever have any reason to use karate besides the occasional schoolyard bully. Meanwhile, her own children had to legitimately worry about bloodthirsty terrorists. She hated to admit it, but Dumbledore was right about one thing: they were far too young to have to deal with this—not that the terrorists cared.

After the introductions, the instructors taught the children a few basic stances and moves. Sensei John was a good teacher, the parents decided. He was good at making the lesson into a sort of game, while still getting the point across, and he was a big help in getting the kids to learn the moves correctly. The smaller ones were pretty uncoordinated, but they all made noticeable improvements over the course of the lesson. Harry also started to pick up his sister's habit of answering the instructors clearly.

The highlight of the lesson was a mini-obstacle course designed to help them with speed and agility. The kids were soon encouraging each other as much as the instructors as they raced each other, and they all wound up having a lot of fun with it, even Harry and, to the bookworm's own astonishment, Hermione.

At the end of the lesson, each child earned a white belt for their effort and respect, and Dan and Emma were glad to see their children were smiling just as much as the others. Worrying about dark wizards could wait a while longer yet.

* * *

_March 1986_

The Granger Family was eating breakfast before school when they heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Hermione," said Dan from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it," Hermione said in her best bossy older sister voice.

Dan looked up and, seeing that Harry was more nearly finished eating, complied. "Get the mail, Harry."

"Make Hermione get it."

"Hermione's still eating, Harry. We can make her get it next time."

Harry quickly took the last bites of his breakfast and ran to get the mail. He brought it back, idly reading over the senders' names. He didn't recognise any of them, but Dan picked out one of them and quickly opened it. He read the first line, and called, "Emma, come look at this."

"What is it, Dan?" his wife said.

"The adoption papers came through."

"They did?"

"They did?" Hermione echoed.

All four of them clustered together to see the letter, and Dan pointed to the relevant line.

_Harry James Potter is hereby recognised as the son of Daniel Mark Granger and Emma Julia Granger. _After much discussion, they had decided as a family for Harry to keep his last name to honour his birth parents' sacrifice, but Harry would have taken any name he had to for this.

"Congratulations, Harry," you're officially part of our family, now, Dan said. Hugs and kisses were exchanged all around that morning, and Harry showed up at school that day with an unshakable smile on his face. It was official now. He had a real family.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and his universe. I don't know who owns all the reinterpretations around here, but I'm not making any money off of this, so I don't think it much matters at this point.

A/N: The Black family tree says that several older members of the Black family were still alive in 1986. However, I have chosen to ignore this both because of other mathematical errors in the Black family tree and because it is stated that the Blacks' "ancestral home" of 12 Grimmauld Place was unoccupied after Walburga's death in 1985.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

_July 1986_

Andromeda Tonks felt a very strong twinge and shivered as she passed through the wards of the house. This place was protected by everything short of a Fidelius Charm, although considering who she was here to meet, that was no surprise.

To say she was nervous would be an understatement. No one had seen Harry Potter for almost five years besides Dumbledore and his closest confidantes. Now, she learnt that he had been adopted by a pair of muggles who happened to have a magical daughter, and now they wanted to meet her.

Andromeda had never met the boy before. Sirius had wanted her to, but the Potters were already in hiding when he was born. She would never understand how her cousin had gone so wrong. Sorted into Gryffidor, left the family and gotten disowned like her, apparently acting as the perfect godfather right up until the end…but now wasn't the time to dwell on such things. She rang the doorbell without hesitation. You don't spend fourteen years with Ted without picking up a few things.

Emma Granger opened the door to let their visitor in, but stopped in surprise when she saw that the woman at the door looked completely normal. She was an attractive woman in her early thirties, clean and formal, with mousy brown hair, and wearing a muggle dress. Her dress was even in style.

"Are you Mrs. Tonks?" she asked.

The woman gave her a nervous smile and shook her hand. "Yes, you must be Mrs. Granger. How do you do."

"How do you do. Please come in. Harry, your cousin is here," she called.

Harry ran out to the foyer upon hearing the news, his sister and father in tow, where he saw a strange woman who froze and stared upon spotting him. He was starting to notice a pattern with that. And of course, his natural feline reaction was to get into a stare-down.

It took a moment from Andromeda to figure out that she'd gotten herself into a staring contest with the Boy-Who-Lived. Yes, this was James's and Lily's son, alright, but there was something else in his eyes. Since she didn't know about his ability, she could only guess that it came from his time with his new family. He was looking well, though. Based on Dumbledore's rather cagey report, she could figure out that he was doing a lot better than when they'd found him last fall. In fact, he had grown several inches and was well on his way to catching up with his year-mates, and the karate lessons were already leaving him fitter than the average little boy.

As she stared, though, Emma Granger seemed to be more on top of things. She leaned down and whispered something to the boy, who blinked once, slowly, then extended his hand and said, "Pleased to meet you Mrs. Tonks."

Something long suppressed broke free within her when she heard him speak. The boy seemed so normal. Even she had gotten a little wrapped up in the Boy-Who-Lived legend, but no, he was just an ordinary child, and suddenly, the formality truly pained her. He was family, after all—indeed, the only family she had besides Dora, Ted, and Ted's parents whom she actually cared to talk to. Perhaps it was time to redeem the hated nickname that her sisters had given her. She crouched down in front of him and took his hand in both of hers. "It's good to finally meet you, too, Harry," she said softly. "Please, call me Cousin Andi…Is this your sister?" She motioned to the girl behind him.

"Yes, m—Cousin Andi, this is Hermione," Harry said with a smile.

"Pleased to meet you," Hermione introduced herself.

"Hermione, that's a lovely name," Andi said. "It's a perfect name for a young witch."

She giggled at the compliment. She was still far more used to people making fun of her name, even with her brother defending her.

"Thank you for having me over, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," Andi said, standing up. "I don't have much more family than Harry does, so it's good too be able to connect with him."

"Please, call us Dan and Emma," the latter said. Whether she turned out to be a truly strong support for Harry or not, she was still family. "Come, sit down. Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please."

"So tell us about your family," Dan said as they sipped their tea. "I know Harry's dying to hear more."

"Oh, I'm sure you know all about us by now," she said with another nervous smile.

"Not really. Mr. Dumbledore didn't tell us much besides that you're Harry's cousin."

"Really? He gave me a whole dossier on you—" She stopped as she saw the Grangers groan and roll their eyes. Even the children. "Well…he would, wouldn't he."

Dan and Emma glanced at each other and each cocked an eyebrow.

"Alright, then. I come from the Black family, just like Harry's grandmother, but, frankly, the smart ones all got out at the earliest opportunity. My husband, Ted, is muggle-born—like Hermione—so we try to keep up with goings on in the muggle world. And we have a daughter, Nymphadora. She's thirteen, and she's…she's a force of nature."

Dan and Emma laughed with her at that, secretly glad that they didn't have to worry about teenagers for a while yet.

"I know," she continued. "She thinks she wants to be an Auror already—that's like a magical detective, more or less. I guess it was too much to expect her to go into the family trade."

"Family trade?" Dan asked.

"Well, Ted's and mine. Actually, I think we have that in common. You two are…dentists, right? Teeth healers?"

"Mm-hmm," they nodded.

"I work as a healer in St. Mungo's Hospital, and Ted works in the apothecary in Diagon Alley."

"Really? What's that like, magical healing?" Emma said.

"According to Ted, it's not too different from yours. We have potions to match most of your medicines and the same kinds of physical therapies and such. The difference is that it's easier to do surgeries and heal simple cuts and fractures with a wand."

"And cleaner, too," Emma pointed out. "That alone's got to add a few years to your life expectancy."

"I can imagine so. We should compare notes sometime. Too few healers ever pay attention to muggle techniques."

Dan and Emma were thrilled to find someone in the magical world who could speak to them on their level. Emma jotted down a few notes. She had already filled her first notebook with material from _A History of Magic_ and had started in on a second. "And of course, you've gotten into Harry's family business as well," she said. "The Wizengamot?"

"Yes, there is that, although they don't meet that often, thank Merlin. Only once a month unless there's something big going on. A bunch of self-important, old, rich folks taking themselves too seriously, if you ask me, but that's politics for you." Dan and Emma chuckled at that. Some things didn't change no matter what world you were in.

"Well, we appreciate you representing Harry's interests there all the same."

"It's not that much trouble, really. Someone's got to do it, and I might as well put all that training my family gave my to good use."

"So how is the Wizengamot actually set up? I mean, we've read through most of _A History of Magic _that Dumbledore gave us, but what's it like now—the factions and such?"

Andi was secretly relieved that Dumbledore hadn't left the Grangers completely in the dark. "Ah—there are forty-eight hereditary seats, six elected, and four appointed," she explained. That raised some eyebrows. The Grangers had not expected the hereditary seats to still be so dominant. "The seats are roughly equally divided into three factions…and that actually hits close to home in my family. You see, my younger sister, Narcissa, married Lucius Malfoy: leader of the blood purist faction, accused Death Eater, though he claims Imperius, and if not _the_ richest man in Magical Britain, certainly in the top three. It's his money that keeps the blood purists in power, and it's suspected by many that he was bankrolling You-Know-Who."

"Who?" Dan said.

"You-Know-Who?"

"Uh…no, we don't know who."

"Wha—?" Andi sighed. Surely, Harry had been told about his past? "You know…V…V…Voldemort," she sounded out, looking very uncomfortable.

"Oh, _him_," Dan said casually. Andi's eyes widened in surprise.

"What's the matter?" Emma asked.

"Well, it's just that…people really don't like to say his name." The Grangers just looked confused. Even the children. "I mean _really_ don't like to say it…He's described in official publications as 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'."

"But that's crazy!" All eyes turned to Hermione. She flinched a little, but she pressed on, "That just makes him scarier."

Andi suddenly felt like she was being put under the microscope, acutely aware despite the culture shock that she and most of the wizarding community had just been put to shame by a six-year-old.

"She is right, you know," Dan said. "No one in our world is afraid to say Hitler's name or anything like that. Besides, Mr. Dumbledore never had any problem using Voldemort's name."

Andi struggled not to flinch. "I know, he's always been like that," she said. "I'm sorry, it's just that news travels fast in the magical world, and V…Voldemort…had a habit of…" She glanced at the children. "Making an example of people whom he felt didn't fear him enough." Harry turned a little green at that, so she quickly changed the subject. "In any case, there is also a faction that opposes the blood purists—to varying degrees. They range from people who only want equal rights for muggle-borns to Solomon Monroe, who thinks Acromantulas are just misunderstood." The Grangers didn't know what an Acromantula was, but it didn't sound cuddly. "Dumbledore is the leader of the pro-equality faction—the Leader of the Light, as his fans like to say—though for more day-to-day things, it's probably Augusta Longbottom, and I'm sure Harry could be a formidable force when he comes of age if he chooses to be.

"The other faction is the neutrals, led by Adrian Greengrass, Sr. If you want to get anything done at all these days, you have to peel off a few of them. Of course, there are lots of little idiosyncrasies—like I suppose I should tell you about the Black Seat. I assume you know about Sirius Black?"

The family all nodded. Harry had by now been told the story of his traitorous godfather.

"Sirius Black is the last surviving male of the Black line. The last one from a family that even one generation ago seemed to be strong and secure. Since he's in Azkaban, the Black Seat on the Wizengamot falls to his nearest relatives by proxy. His brother, Regulus, was also a Death Eater, although he apparently got cold feet when the war turned bad, and V…Voldemort…killed him himself. The next in line was his mother, who filled the seat until she died last year. After her was my older sister, Bellatrix—also a Death Eater. She's in Azkaban, too, for…doing things that aren't appropriate for children to hear." Dan and Emma grimaced at that. It had to be pretty bad to beat what had happened to Harry's parents. "Since I was disowned by my family, I'm not eligible, so his current proxy is Narcissa. While Sirius Black lives, she holds his seat and votes in lockstep with her husband. When he dies, there will be a vacancy, and the Wizengamot will elect a new family to fill it, preferably the nearest blood relative who has an heir and isn't already ennobled. If things remain as they stand now, Malfoy will nominate Richard Burke, I'll nominate Enid Croaker, and Malfoy will win that vote.

"But let's talk about happier things. I want to hear all about what Harry's been doing these past eight months…"

They conversed for quite a while, telling what they could about their first encounters with Harry and with Dumbledore and how Harry had been faring since then. The children talked at length about their friends and school, and Hermione especially about her many books. When Harry mentioned his love of climbing, Andi said she expected him to take to flying and Quidditch, like his father, though Dan and Emma didn't look particularly pleased about that. They only knew the basics of Quidditch, but Andi could admit it didn't sound too safe by muggle standards.

When the children talked about the karate classes they were taking, though she understood how serious it was, she couldn't help but laugh and say, "Now that I _have_ to see." Her laughter quickly turned to amazement as Harry and Hermione demonstrated a complete kata to her. Not that they were particularly good—they were only yellow belts by now—and of course they didn't have wands yet, but if they were doing things like this at ages five and six, she thought, then her pompous, entitled brother-in-law and his cronies would be in for a surprise if they ever tried anything on the children when they were older.

In return, Andi told them some more about her family, particularly Dora's pranking exploits at Hogwarts and her Quidditch rivalry against Charlie Weasley, which were the source of much amusement. Emma suggested the two families meet sometime, though that might take some doing.

"I definitely need to introduce you to Ted sometime," Andi confirmed, "but it's tricky. Officially, I'm not even here right now. You probably know by now how Dumbledore is about secrets. I'll bring my husband if I can, but I'm not sure if Dora's ready for that yet."

As the conversation started to wind down, Andi surprised them by pulling a wrapped parcel out of her handbag. "Harry, I know you have a birthday coming up in a couple of weeks, and since I won't be able to come for that, I wanted to give you this."

Harry took the parcel and, after a nod from his parents, opened it. Inside the box, he was surprised to find a toy motorbike, about eight inches long and a matching silver wand of about the same length. He held up the motorbike and studied it curiously. It looked oddly familiar.

"Your father and grandfather were more tinkerers than anything else, Harry. Magical inventions, better broomsticks, that sort of thing. That motorbike is a replica of one that your father…and Sirius Black enchanted to fly."

"Really?" Harry asked excitedly. "I had a dream about a flying motorbike once."

"Then maybe it was the same one. The original is in our shed. That one doesn't fly, but it does move around on its own. Go on, set it on the floor." Harry did so. "Now, do you see that silver stick?"

"Uh huh."

"That's a toy wand. It doesn't do anything besides control the motorbike. Just point the wand at it and say, 'Start'."

Harry picked up the silver wand from the box and said, "Start." Immediately, the toy started rolling forward, perfectly balanced, with a rather electric-sounding whirr. Harry soon learnt that it drove wherever he pointed the wand, and he was quickly doing laps around the living room until he tried to turn it too tight, and it wiped out.

"It's great! Thanks!" he exclaimed.

"You're quite welcome, Harry. Say 'Stop' to turn it off."

"Um, are we, you know, allowed to have that here?" Dan asked before it could go any further.

"Oh, certainly. Just don't tell anyone that it's magical. The Ministry doesn't trace all magic, just spells. It's sort of the worst-kept secret in Magical Britain. Tell them its a custom toy that runs on…batteries, is that right?"

Harry righted the motorbike and started it again, with Hermione chasing after him.

"Okay, you two, why don't you take that upstairs if you're going to play with it—just be careful."

The kids squealed with excitement as they climbed the stairs, leaving Dan and Emma to ask the main political question that they didn't particularly want to involve them in.

"Andi, there's something we've been wondering about, if you can answer it," Dan said.

"What is it?" Andi said seriously, recognising the ploy from when Dora was that age during the war.

"Just how _did_ Dumbledore get all of those titles of his?"

"Oh, that." Andi chuckled a little in spite of herself, even though she understood how it could be a concern. "It's actually pretty simple. Albus Dumbledore was hailed as the Saviour of the Wizarding World for years." Dan and Emma started. "Um, you've been reading _A History of Magic_. Have you read about Grindelwald's War?"

"Not yet."

"Read those chapters—and come to think of it, have a muggle history book open when you do. I can understand why he didn't tell you. Dumbledore doesn't like to talk about his personal life, but the fact is that he _personally_ defeated Grindelwald himself in 1945."

"What?" Emma exclaimed. "You mean Dumbledore won World War II single-handed?"

Andi nodded. "The Western Theatre, anyway. Everyone knows the story. Dumbledore was one of the planners in the war—he's always been very clever—but a lot of people thought that he was the only one strong enough to beat Grindelwald in a straight duel. He didn't want to get involved in the fighting himself, but the Wizarding Allies were desperate—far more desperate than I think the muggle commanders ever knew. Grindelwald was about to break through the Allied lines with his army to take back France for the Germans. So on the 6th of January, 1945, Dumbledore met Grindelwald in the Ardennes and fought him. Three hours of chaos and destruction later in what is widely agreed to be the greatest duel of all time, Grindelwald was in chains, and Dumbledore was leading the Allies to victory."

"Wait a minute, you said the Ardennes?" Dan said. "My father was _at_ the Ardennes."

"A lot of people were," Andi said apologetically. "I doubt he would have seen anything besides explosions. Anyway, Dumbledore was called the Saviour of the Wizarding World from that day forward until…well, honestly, until Harry took over the title five years ago. The world was so grateful that they made him Supreme Mugwump and Chief Warlock before the year was out. He still gets offered Minister about once a decade, too, but he always turns them down. He says he prefers to just moderate."

"Yes, that's basically what he told us," Emma said. "So he got all those titles for winning the war…not from…politicking."

"Politicking? No, they practically made him take them. After all, what else are you going to give to the most powerful wizard in the world?"

"But…but…" Dan stammered as he grasped for the real thing that was bothering him. "That means the most politically powerful person in your world is _also_ the most physically powerful person as well?"

"Huh…I guess I never thought of it that way…I mean, that's really a matter of opinion. Everyone thought that…Voldemort was his near-equal." She was surprised how easy saying that name got after a few repetitions. "And there are others—Minister Grayson in Australia, Fan Tong in China, Old Coyote in America. Any of them could probably give him a run for his money."

"And you don't think he's been doing too much in your world?" Emma said.

Andi laughed darkly. "You wouldn't be the first to suggest that," she said. "I've wondered it before myself, especially as he isn't getting any younger. The point is that like it or not, that's what you get for winning a war in our world."

_And they all think Harry won a war_, they thought. At least Andi seemed like the type who was willing to ask the hard questions. Emma flipped to her to-do list, which was growing quite ambitious by now, and, more in frustration than anything else, added the line, _Introduce democracy to the Wizarding World._

* * *

_October 1986_

"What are you going to be for Halloween, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry didn't look at her. He lowered he head and mumbled, "I don't know."

Hermione knew that look by now. "What's the matter?"

Harry sat still, but his hands began shaking almost imperceptibly.

"Hermione, come here," her mother ordered, leading her to the far corner of the room. "I think Harry might not want to celebrate Halloween this year," she whispered.

"What? Why not?"

"Hermione, remember, his birth parents were killed on Halloween," Emma whispered. "I don't think he's going to want to celebrate on that day."

"But what about trick-or-treating?" Hermione said more loudly.

"Shh." She should have known this would be a sore spot. Halloween had always been the one day a year when Hermione was allowed excessive amounts of candy. "If Harry doesn't want to go, he doesn't have to. Remember, he doesn't like sweets as much as you do either. If you really want to go, you can go with just your father."

"Oh…okay…" Hermione said, looking disappointed. She didn't speak to Harry much after that that evening, but her mother noticed her looking at him guiltily a couple times. Emma soon decided that even if Hermione weren't going, something needed to be done so that Harry wouldn't just be moping around the house while all the other kids were out having fun. So after a couple minutes' whispered debate with Dan, she took action.

Sitting down beside Harry on the sofa, she held him close and scratched him behind the ears. He leaned into her.

"Harry," she said, haltingly, grasping for words. "We know you don't really remember your birth parents…And your father and I love having you as our son, but it's also too bad that you never got to know them…and Halloween is coming up, and it'll be five years…well, so we thought that it might be nice if we could visit your birth parents' graves on Halloween after school."

Harry looked up at her, his eyes shining, but indecisive, questioning.

"A lot of people say it helps them cope, you know? I know it always helps me when I visit my parents'…It's sort of like being able to meet them and talk to them…even though they can't talk to you, it's nice to think that they can hear you somewhere, and you'll be able to meet them again someday…Would you like to go see them?"

Harry thought for a moment and tried to say, "Yes, Mum," but it came out as more of a squeak. He nodded and rubbed his head against her shoulder.

"Okay, I'll write Cousin Andi and ask if she can take us," she whispered.

A letter sent through the muggle post service always took a few days, but from what they could tell, the reply by owl was always quite prompt. Shortly after they expected Cousin Andi would have received their letter, they got an answer.

_Dear Dan and Emma,_

_I agree with you that it would be good for Harry to visit his birth parents' graves if he wants to. I can fully sympathise with your concerns about his being cut off from the magical world. However, I'm afraid that Halloween itself is out of the question. The memorialisers and dare-I-say tourists will be out in full force that day, not to mention the "Harry Potter Day" celebrations. I cannot in good conscience subject Harry to that, not to mention the fact that he would probably be recognised._

_I think the following Sunday, the 2nd, would be a far better time to visit. Few people will be about that day, and you can be assured some degree of privacy. I would be happy to meet you that afternoon to take you to Godric's Hollow, and would pay for the trip. Just be sure to cover up Harry's scar—not many people will be able to identify him without seeing it. I'll introduce you to Ted when I come. All the best this Halloween._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Andromeda Tonks_

Emma felt sick when she saw the words "Harry Potter Day". Putting it that way, they were effectively celebrating a little boy losing his parents. She had to agree with Andi; it would do no good to take him on the day.

Thankfully, Harry seemed to understand when she told him they would have to wait until Sunday—only mentioning the part about there being too many people and him being recognised. Unfortunately, this left Hermione free to ask him if he want to go trick-or-treating because if he did, she said, he needed to get a costume soon. She said it nicely, like she was trying to be helpful and make up for his not being able to go to Godric's Hollow on the 31st, but the seven-year-old still had a ways to go in the subject of tact.

Emma was about to scold her daughter when, to her surprise, Harry quietly and half-heartedly said, "Sure, I can go."

"You don't have to, Harry," told him. "I know candy isn't really your thing anyway, and we'll all understand if you want to stay in and just have a nice quiet evening."

Harry looked up to face her. "Thanks, Mum…but Paul and Tiffany wanted all of us to go together.

"Oh…" Emma smiled. "Well, that's very nice that you want to go with your friends. I suppose we'll have to find you a costume, then."

It took a last-minute trip to the costume shop the day before Halloween to find the right look for Harry. His wizard costume looked like a midnight blue version of a monk's robe and hood with gold trim, and he carried the silver wand from his toy motorbike. Hermione wore a plain black witch's robe with a pointy hat, much like Professor McGonagall's. Her costume didn't come with a wand, but it had a miniature broomstick like the one used by the Wicked Witch of the West.

On Halloween night, a ninja dressed all in black and a generic fairy-tale princess met them at their house, accompanied by Paul's father and Tiffany's mother.

"Hi, guys, nice costumes," Paul said.

"Thanks, you too," Harry replied, idly waving his wand.

"That's a nice dress, Tiffany," Hermione commented.

"Thank you. You make a great witch."

"Come on, let's go," Paul cut the conversation short, looking greedy for candy. Being the oldest of the four, he knew most of the tricks to score a good haul, and he was well aware that the Grangers' was the richest of their three neighbourhoods.

"Alright, just a minute, let me get a picture first," Dan said. After lining up the four of them to pose for the camera, he was soon dragged off by his children to join the group.

"Have fun kids, and be careful," Emma called after them.

"Yes, Mummy," Hermione called back.

They took off while Emma stayed behind to pass out candy. Harry soon found that while the candy was just a minor perk, he really enjoyed trick-or-treating. Under the cover of the costume he could let his real wizard self out a little bit. He even started casting made-up spells with his toy wand, although at one point, to his surprise, sparks shot out of the end of it, and he had to tone it down. Thankfully, everyone just thought it was a fancy part of the costume.

It was his father who reminded him that he should probably not use the word _abracadabra_, especially on Halloween. _Modern Magical History_ had told them just what spell that particular word sounded like.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I am making no money from this, nor do I have the right to. That right belongs to JK Rowling and her chosen associates.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. To those of you who asked, no I haven't forgotten about Sirius. Unfortunately, he'll have to wait until there is an appropriate opportunity to expose Wormtail. But Harry _will_ be meeting some more of his family in next couple of chapters.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

_November 1986_

Andromeda and Edward Tonks arrived on Sunday afternoon to escort the Grangers to Godric's Hollow. They noted that Harry was wearing a black baseball cap low on his forehead, covering up his scar and his characteristic hair. Even at his one-time residence, few people, if anyone, would be able to recognise the boy like that. Andi nodded in approval as she introduced her husband.

Cousin Ted was blond and heavyset, but, Harry noted, not nearly as large as Vernon Dursley, and his voice was far more pleasant. He shook the family's hands quickly, saying, "Pleased to meet you all." He was the first muggle-born any of them had met besides Hermione, and like his wife, he seemed to know his way around a muggle neighbourhood. Dan and Emma were quietly impressed by how he seemed to greet Harry as just one of the family. Knowing how muggle-borns had fared in the war, they wouldn't have been surprised if he had shown a particular reverence for the Boy-Who-Lived.

"The car's in the garage," Dan started to say as the Tonkses started to walk back toward the curb.

"If you don't mind, it'll be quicker to take some magical transport," Andi said. Taking the bus wouldn't be that much more risky than the visit itself, and she felt she might as well save them from what Ted guessed would be about six hours of driving for the round trip.

"What kind of magical transport?" Dan said, thinking of the floo and the broomsticks.

"You're wearing Anti-Anti-Muggle Charms, right?" Dan and Emma nodded. "You, uh, you haven't seen any really big magic yet, so you might want to brace yourselves—we'll be taking the Knight Bus." She stepped to the curb and drew her wand from her sleeve. "All you have to do is hold out your wand, and…"

BANG!

Behind Andi and Ted, zipping out of nowhere and screeching to a halt was an enormous triple-decker, bright purple bus. A moment later, a conductor in a purple uniform leapt out and spoke to her:

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Ernie Prang, and I will be your conductor—say, what's their problem?" he said, pointing at the family, who were now all four of them standing open-mouthed in shock.

"Mr. Prang, these are our friends, the Granger Family," Andi told him. The kids just found out they're muggle-borns last year, and I'm showing them around.

"Ah, starting early now, are we? So where to, then, ma'am?" Ernie Prang said.

She handed over some gold. "Will this do for a round trip to Godric's Hollow?"

"That it will, ma'am. All aboard, then," he called.

The Grangers looked considerably less at ease when they boarded the bus and saw that instead of normal seats, there were free-standing wooden chairs in only an approximate semblance of order. A handful of dishevelled-looking witches and wizards in anachronistic clothes were seated near the back.

"You might want to hold on tight," Ted warned them as they found six seats together.

"What was your first clue?" Emma muttered.

"All right, take it away, Lou," the conductor said.

"Mm hmm," the driver grunted, and with another tremendous BANG, they were off—and in a completely different city.

The Granger Family were thrown back in their seats with great force. The chairs seemed to slide freely, though somehow they didn't topple over. They might have questioned how they were suddenly in London had they not all been too busy screaming. After all, the Knight Bus not only drove at _at least_ a hundred miles an hour, but also didn't even stay on the road.

It took five minutes and a couple more teleportation jumps for them to realise that any obstacles were simply leaping out of the bus's path. It took ten minutes to console Harry and Hermione that they weren't about to crash horribly. The bus made stops all over the country to drop people off and pick them up, but Andi was right about it being fast, as they pulled into Godric's Hollow in less than an hour, though it left them questioning if it was worth it.

"Why doesn't this bloody thing have seat belts?" Dan demanded when they finally got off. Emma didn't even make the effort to correct his language.

"Oh, it's not so bad," the conductor said. "No one's gotten hurt in about a month. Thanks for riding."

With a BANG, the Knight Bus zoomed off.

"Sorry," Andi said under Dan's and Emma's disapproving looks. "It's kind of hard to describe to someone who hasn't ridden it before."

"Don't you have any…better methods of travel?" Emma said.

"Not fast ones. Floo, portkey, apparition—they're all the same. All powerful magic has a price, and in this case, the price is that it's really uncomfortable."

Dan still thought it would be more comfortable with seat belts, but he kept the thought to himself. Hermione, holding his hand and now more or less recovered from the ordeal, looked thoughtful at that tidbit about the laws of magic as they crossed the street.

Godric's Hollow was a quiet country village, its muggle residents blissfully unaware of the relatively large amount of magic in their midst. A row of pleasant little cottages led down to a village square surrounded by a few shops, a post office, a pub, and a small church. Here, at the end of the row, was one cottage that didn't look so pleasant.

"This is where most people come on Halloween," Andi explained softly. "This was where they lived—where you lived, Harry."

Emma held they boy close to her as they approached. To muggles, it looked like a fenced-off vacant lot, but to those who were privy to the magical world, there was a cottage like the others, except that a large chunk of the top floor had been blown out by a horrific explosion, and rubble was scattered over the grass. The hedge clearly hadn't been trimmed in the past five years, and dark green ivy was creeping up the sides of the house. As they stood wondering at the neglected ruin, Andi strode closer and laid a hand on the rusting gate. A sign grew out of the ground in front of it. A description was written in gold letters, still clearly legible though surrounded by graffiti:

_On this spot, on this night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family. _

Emma read the words aloud for her children. Her voice broke as she choked back tears. It had been just shy of a year since Harry had first shown up on their porch, but the reality of what had happened to his birth family hit home when they saw the destroyed cottage. Forget the Killing Curse; how had he survived the explosion?

Harry stepped forward and laid his hands on the sign and stroked the grain of the wood. It took Emma a moment to realise that he was reading off the messages written around the epitaph: five years of magical graffiti, words written over words written over words that rose to the surface in glowing ink and sank down below other messages. Harry started reading aloud, skipping over the unfamiliar names and focusing on the longer messages.

_Thank you, thank you, Harry Potter._

_Goodbye, Lily and James. I wish we could have been closer—Victoria McKinnon._

_Bless you, Harry Potter, wherever you are—Michael Dunbar._

_I failed you, Lily. I am truly sorry. I swear you will be avenged._

_We will forever be in the Potters' debt. Thank you for all you did for us—Dedalus Diggle._

_Rest well, James and Lily. I only wish I could do more for Harry—Remus._

Harry's voice gave out, and he sank to the ground in tears with a whiny sort of cry that his family noticed sounded a lot like meowing.

Emma knelt down and held him in her arms. She was in tears, too, but partly for a different reason: after all the talk she had heard of the Boy-Who-Lived—the spurious things that were _written_ about him in _Modern Magical History_, she found herself moved beyond words that finally _someone_ had gotten it right. Someone in this messed-up magical world understood and properly memorialised Lily and James Potter instead of fawning over an infant whose fate was merely tragic circumstance.

Presently, a scruffy-looking long-haired cat walked up to the crying pair and meowed. Harry glanced up, blinking back tears to get a good look at it. He could tell it was middle-aged from the way it carried itself and from its yellowing teeth and its brown coat that was going coarse and even a little grey around the nose. It eyed him warily, as if it had once had a bad experience with him, but it slowly came within arm's reach. He reached out a hand and half-heartedly scratched it behind the ears. The cat lay down and started purring softly.

For a few minutes, no one really spoke or knew what to say, but finally, Emma and Harry climbed to their feet and looked back. Ted and Andi were arm in arm. Dan was holding Hermione in front of him, but the little girl finally broke free when she saw the tears on her brother's face and ran over to hug him.

"Oh, Harry!" She cried. Emma laid a reassuring hand of support on each of their shoulders.

Harry sniffled a couple times and gave her a muttered, "Thanks."

"Come on, if you're ready…" Andi said. "The graveyard is this way." She led them down the lane. Only Harry noticed the cat following behind them.

When they reached the square, they noticed an obelisk standing in the centre, a war memorial like the ones set up in so many other villages. But as they approached, Ted said, "They wanted to keep the cottage the way it was…on that night, but some of us in London wanted there to be a proper memorial, so we chipped in and paid for a statue here. Sure enough, when they drew near, the obelisk changed and morphed into a statue of James, Lily, and baby Harry Potter, life-sized and happily smiling out at the square. The Grangers gasped when they saw it. It was clearly based on the picture from Harry's first birthday that he kept at his bedside.

"It's very nice," Emma whispered.

"It is," Dan repeated.

"Thank you, Cousin Ted," Harry said, giving the older man a tentative hug.

"I wonder, though…" Dan muttered. Reaching into his coat, he pulled off his Anti-Anti-Muggle Charm. "It's an actual war memorial, too," he said in surprise. "It has names and everything."

"Really?" Hermione said, grabbing the necklace from his hand.

He reached out to feel the granite. "You can even touch it." To everyone else, it looked like he was resting his hand on James Potter's knee. Emma started to take off her necklace to see the illusion for herself.

"Hey, it turned back into an obelisk," Hermione exclaimed. All eyes turned to her. She was wearing her father's Anti-Anti-Muggle Charm.

"You can see the obelisk?" Andi said.

"Uh huh, when I put on the necklace. It works backwards on magic people."

"It does? May I, Emma?" Andi took Emma's necklace and put it on. "How interesting. I didn't know they did that. Hermione, how did you know the charms would do that?"

"I didn't…but it does make sense, doesn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

After everyone had had a turn with the necklaces, and more importantly, after Harry had taken his time to see the statue of the Potters, they continued over to the graveyard beside the church. Filing two by two through the kissing gate, they began to look over the headstones.

"Look!" Hermione exclaimed when they reached a few rows back. She pointed to a large, dark, lichen-spotted headstone that was inscribed at the top with _Kendra Dumbledore_ and the dates 1851 and 1899. Below the initial carving, in smaller letters, were the words, _and Her Daughter Ariana_ with the dates 1885 and 1899. At the bottom, was a quotation: _Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also._

"Albus Dumbledore's mother and sister, I think." Ted said. "He's never talked much about his family."

Not without reason, they thought, seeing that his sister had apparently died at fourteen.

Dan quietly read off the names as they kept looking: "Williams…Knighton…P—? No, that says Peverell."

"Peverell?" Andi said. "That must be a really old one."

They looked closer at the weathered, cracked headstone. It was a tall one, with an odd, triangular symbol at the top that Harry thought looked a little like a cat's eye. Near the bottom, barely legible, was carved the name _Ignotus Peverell_ along with birth and death dates: 12 July 1214 and 18 May 1291.

"1291? This is nearly seven hundred years old. That's got to be older than the church."

"This might have been their family graveyard a long time ago. They were one of the Most Ancient Houses. It's rumoured that the Potters were elected as their successors, but the records are incomplete…The new ones are probably in the back."

Harry kept looking with the others with growing apprehension. The deeper they went, the anticipation was growing too much for him, and his feet started dragging of their own accord, but Emma took his had and led him on.

The headstone in the back row was white marble and obviously fairly new. It was also—they didn't know how they had failed to notice sooner—surrounded by flowers and tokens of remembrance. Apparently, visitors came back here more than it appeared at first glance. The inscription on the stone looked fresh-cut and was easy to read as Harry brushed trembling fingers across the letters:

JAMES POTTER

BORN 27 MARCH 1960

DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981

LILY POTTER

BORN 30 JANUARY 1960

DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._

"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death…" Harry repeated with a look of confusion.

"That's from the Bible, dear," Emma said gently. We can look it up later.

He continued tracing the letters uncertainly. "What…what do I say?" he asked.

"Whatever you want."

He sat down among the flowers and began speaking with a wavering voice, "H-h-hi…Mum…hi, Dad…" he thought he would feel a little uncomfortable saying that to the cold stone, but to his surprise, the words seemed to come naturally. "I…don't really remember you, but I'm Ha-Harry…your son. I…couldn't come here before because Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were really mean, and they didn't tell me what happened to you, and they didn't like magic. But…but I ran away from them," he said quickly, wiping some tears from his eyes. "I found a…a new Mum and Dad, and they're really nice to me. I've got a sister now too. She's a witch, too…She's a m-muggle-born witch, like you, Mum. H-Hermione…?" he called.

Hermione stepped forward and sat down beside him. "Um…Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Potter," she said uncertainly. "I'm Hermione. Uh…Harry's a really great brother. I'm glad he got to come live with us—you know, away from his aunt and uncle. We're going to go to Hogwarts together when we're old enough, but Harry's really good at magic already…"

Harry looked at Emma questioningly.

She got the message. "Could you…give us some time alone?" she said to Ted and Andi. The two of them retreated to the gate of the graveyard.

"It's alright, Harry, you can tell them," Emma said.

Harry smiled a little as he turned back to the white marble. "Guess what…" he whispered. "I can turn into a cat. Professor McGonagall can do it too, but she doesn't know how I can because I'm still a kid. Did you know anyone else who could do that?" There was an awkward pause as Harry left a gap for a response without thinking. "I, um…we met Cousin Andi and Cousin Ted…I like them, but they can't visit much…" He looked back at Emma again.

Emma knelt down to join the conversation and help him out. "Hello, James. Hello, Lily," she said, wrapping her arms around the children. "We all really love your son. I…I don't know how you saved him from Voldemort, but thank you. He's such a joy to have in our lives."

"And don't worry," Dan said, standing behind her, "we'll keep him safe for you and keep him out of trouble. I'm sure he'll be a great wizard when he grows up."

With his family's support, Harry sat there a while longer and told his birth parents about his friends and school and what he'd been doing for the past year. He guessed they probably didn't want to hear about his time at the Dursley's, but he found he had quite a bit to say about the time since then.

As he was talking, the scruffy tabby that had been following him walked up beside him and sat as if keeping watch. He exchanged blinks with it, and it let him pet it, but no one paid it much more mind.

When he felt he was done talking, despite all the tears, Harry was glad he had come. Like his mum had said, he did feel like he had gotten to meet his birth parents, in a way, but more than that, by coming here, his family seemed just a little bit more complete. As they all walked solemnly out of the graveyard, Ted and Andi began to lead them away, but they were interrupted.

"Well, hello, there," a raspy, creaking voice called. They turned to see a tiny, stooped old woman hobbling down the lane. "Don't often see visitors paying their respects _after_ All Hallows' Eve."

Ted's and Andi's eyes went wide as they realised who this was and what she might know having lived in Godric's Hollow for so long. Best act casual, though. "Professor Bagshot, what a surprise," Andi said, trying to hide her nervousness. The Tonkses had met Bathilda Bagshot a couple of times before at Ministry functions, but she doubted the old woman would remember them.

As Dan and Emma whispered to each other, the old woman stepped closer to the Tonkses and met their eyes, though she barely came up to Andi's chin. "Andromeda…" she said when she'd had a good lock. "Andromeda Tonks. No doubt about it—you have the Black eyes…"

So she did remember. Just her luck. "It's good to see you, Professor," she said. "These are our friends, the Granger Family. Dan, Emma, I'd like to introduce to to Bathilda Bagshot, author of _A History of Magic_."

"Really?" Hermione yelled, running up to her. "You wrote it? We've read all of it, haven't we, Daddy?"

"Uh, yeah, that's right," Dan said. Truthfully, Hermione had mostly listened to her parents reading excerpts, but close enough. "We're honoured to meet you, Professor." They didn't know much about the author other than the fact that they were surprised she was still alive. She looked quite old in her picture in _A History of Magic_ from 1947, as old as Dumbledore now, who was supposedly a hundred and five. Dan and Emma could believe that she was a hundred and forty or so. She had sunken eyes with cataracts forming, skin spotted and streaked, nearly translucent, and badly thinning hair, and from the way she was acting, they weren't sure how sharp her mind still was.

"You're very kind," she said, hobbling closer to them. They caught a strange odour of old age and dust from her. It was too late that they noticed she seemed to be gravitating towards Harry. Harry took a step back.

"Come here, child, let me get a good look at you," she said.

"Professor, we really need to—" Andi started. Someone getting a good look at Harry was exactly what they didn't want.

Too late. "Bless my soul, it can't be Harry Potter, can it?" the ancient woman said, her voice trailing off.

"Professor, I told you this is the Granger Family," Andi said gently.

"But he must be. I'd know poor Lily's eyes anywhere." Bathilda grew misty eyed. "She was a good woman…"

"You knew her?" Harry said, then promptly clapped his hand over his mouth.

"Oh there's no need for that, young man. I knew your parents well. They had me over for tea most days while they were hear. They were both very good people."

Harry was amazed—as amazed as he had been when Mr. Dumbledore first told him about his parents—that they had also known the woman who had written a book he'd read—or tried to read, anyway.

"Professor," Andi took charge before he could say anymore, "we were really hoping to keep this visit private. We'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone that Harry was here."

"Oh, of course," she said. "I can understand why the boy would want to keep a low profile. I do hope you might be able to come for tea sometime, though."

"Next time we're in town, we'll be sure to make the time," Andi said, after a glance at Dan and Emma. "Have a nice day."

"You too, Madame Tonks. Harry, it was very good to see you again."

Bathilda Bagshot hobbled on home, and Andi summoned the Knight Bus again. As they boarded, the brown tabby climbed aboard with them.

"I think that cat likes you, Harry," Emma said.

"Alright, let's go, Lou," the conductor called, and the bus took off with a bang. The cat was thrown to the back and probably scared out of one of its remaining lives. With no other recourse, it ran to Harry and leapt into his lap, staying there until they made it back to Crawley. Sure enough, it followed Harry off the bus again and eventually tried to follow him into the house.

"Can we keep it?" Harry asked.

"Harry…we already have one cat," Emma half-joked.

"But I wanna talk to it."

Emma looked to Dan and shrugged.

"Alright, you can bring it inside to talk to it," Dan said.

"Thanks, Dad." Harry pushed past them into the house an changed form.

The cat meowed in surprise and retreated to the far corner of the living room.

Harry almost laughed. Humans and cats, it seemed, reacted much the same way. He blinked at it and dipped his head submissively, and it began to approach cautiously, meowing to itself. He could smell so much more about it in cat form. The cat was female, spayed, and probably about eight years old. She was an ordinary house cat, he confirmed, not an animagus, as he had thought she might be. She had been living mostly outside for a long time, but had the smell of a number of humans on her, both magical and muggle. She must be good at scoring food from them.

A domestic cat's command of spoken language was even cruder than that of an animagus, but Harry could make out her meowing as roughly, _Strange. Human changed to cat._

_I can change with magic. Humans don't know how,_ he tried to explain, but the cat only seemed to partially understand.

_Know your smell. Human-Servants' Kitten,_ she said when she got close enough.

_You knew my old parents? _he meowed back excitedly. Harry couldn't remember having a cat any more than he could remember his birth parents themselves, but he knew a lot of wizards did have them.

_Human-Servants good,_ she said_. Gone long time. Bad Man broke house._

Harry lowered his head. _Bad Wizard hunted old parents. I found new parents. New parents are nice. They can be your human-servants. I will ask them._

The cat seemed to perk up. _Like human-servants. Give food._

_I like having old family here. Do you have family?_

_Dam and Litter-Mates gone long time. Lived with Human-Servants._

Harry supposed that's how it was for house cats when he thought about it. _What is your name? _he asked.

The cat meowed a name at him, but it wasn't any identifiable words. She might have still recognised her human name, but, of course, she had no way to tell it to him.

Harry repeated her cat name with partial success. _I will introduce you to Teacher-Cat when she visits, _he said, but the cat didn't seem to understand him. Without any ideas for further conversation, he changed back to human. "Mum, Dad, Hermione, guess what!"

On Hermione's recommendation, the Potter Family's cat was rechristened Rowena and moved into the Granger House, and while she never quite became great friends with Harry, they got along well enough. Harry claimed she was much happier being an indoor cat.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: We read and write by the leave of JK Rowling.

A/N: The storm described in this chapter is the Great Storm of 1987, which occurred on the night of 15-16 October, killing 22 people and causing 2 billion pounds' worth of damage in Great Britain alone.

If you're interested in a little parody, also check out my new one-shot story, _On My Life and Magic_.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

_December 1986_

Everyone was safely in bed, or at least was supposed to be. Yet a black and white kitten was lurking in the shadows of the living room, his gaze fixed on the Christmas tree. Harry had waited until all the lights had turned out before sneaking out of bed, easily descending the stairs without making noise on his four paws. He paused by Rowena, but she just squinted at him in annoyance for waking her and went back to sleep.

Harry took up watch from a hidden corner of the living room from which he had a good line of sight to the tree and the fireplace. His feline night vision gave him a clear view of the room that would have been practically invisible for a human. It was the perfect spot to see just what happened when Father Christmas's presents arrived.

He was sleepy, but he didn't have as long to wait as he feared. It wasn't even midnight when he heard someone stir, navigating carefully through the darkened house. They stepped over Rowena, but didn't even notice Harry's reflective green eyes at the far side of the room. Sure enough, several new presents soon appeared under the tree.

He knew it.

* * *

_February 1987_

"You know, Harry's never really taken a proper Holiday," Dan said. "We should go somewhere this summer."

"That sounds lovely," Emma replied. "Where were you thinking of?"

"Well, we haven't been to Spain since before Hermione was born."

"Fancy some summer sun on the beach?"

"I certainly wouldn't complain. And it would do Hermione some good to get out of the library for a while."

"Sounds good to me. We can run it by the kids when it's closer to—"

"Ahhh!"

"Hermione!" Dan and Emma yelled. They ran toward the scream to find their daughter standing on the sofa and pointing at the floor by the television.

"There's a mouse over there!"

It was then that they saw the little rodent poking around the carpet in the corner. But before they could react, Harry ran down the stairs.

"A mouse? I'll get it!"

"Harry, wait," Emma said, but Harry had already changed to cat form and ran after it. The mouse took off along the wall. Harry ran around the telly and tried to corner it by the side table, but it dodged. Soon, the kitten was weaving in and out around the legs of the furniture pursuing it, narrowly avoiding knocking over two lamps and a vase.

"Harry, stop!" Dan said.

The mouse took off toward the foyer with the kitten single-mindedly following it. He meowed for Rowena to help out, but the middle aged cat only got out of the way and let the younger generation handle it.

A moment later, the family heard a crash and a yowl and ran into the kitchen, only to find a pleased-looking kitten dropping an unmoving mouse on the kitchen floor.

"Eww! Harry!" Hermione yelled in protest.

Harry changed back to human and said. "I told you I'd get it."

Emma looked green at the sight, like her daughter. Dan took it upon himself to dispose of the creature, thankful that Harry at least didn't try to eat it. "Harry, we can see you're good at this," he told his son, "but in the future, I think we should use traps to get rid of mice…And go brush your teeth right away, please. God knows where this thing's been."

* * *

_September 1987_

_The Quibbler_

_Harry Potter Spotted in Barcelona?_

_By Xenophilius Lovegood_

_A family of British wizards vacationing in Spain last month claims to have seen a boy matching the description of the Boy-Who-Lived visiting the Catedral de Barcelona on August 17. The family, which asked not to be identified, reports seeing an English-speaking boy of about six years sporting the unkempt black hair attributed to James Potter and Lily Potter's green eyes at the popular muggle and magical tourist site, accompanied by an unknown family._

_Harry Potter has not been seen in public since the night of the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named nearly six years ago, and both Minister for Magic Millicent Bagnold and Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore have consistently refused to answer any questions about the boy's whereabouts, saying only that he is being kept safe in an undisclosed location._

_While most experts have dismissed the report as mere coincidence, refusing to believe that Potter would appear in a foreign country at all, let alone publicly and with an unknown family, this reporter feels that a very real threat has been overlooked: that Harry Potter has been deliberately moved out of the country by agents of the Rotfang Conspiracy in order to prevent him from growing up to oppose their efforts to bring down the Ministry from within with Dark Magic and gum disease._

_We call on the Ministry to conduct an investigation at once to purge undesirable elements from the Auror Office and to confirm the safety of young Mr. Potter. Indeed, the continued integrity of Minister Bagnold's government demands immediate action…_

_STORY CONTINUES ON PAGE 3._

_FOR MORE ON THE ROTFANG CONSPIRACY, SEE PAGE 5._

* * *

_October 1987_

Rowena was the first up that night, having never gone to sleep with the heavy rain and thunder going on. As soon as the storm picked up, she took refuge under a chair. Harry, having been tucked in hours before the trouble started, was next, but as the roar of the wind and the cracking and snapping of branches rose in the hour past midnight, the entire family soon followed. At first, Harry and Hermione were told not to worry and to go back to sleep. But Harry's feline sixth sense, even subdued in human form, told him that this was no ordinary storm.

A loud crash sounded as a limb fell against the house. The children screamed in their rooms. At that point, Dan and Emma decided that sending them back to bed again would be a futile gesture, so they took a blanket so that the four of them could curl up on the sofa together. They listened to the radio as the weather reports grew more and more dire, and what was first forecast as an typical autumn thunderstorm became what would later be called a 200-year storm.

The family huddled on the sofa as the wind grew louder. With each gust, there was a clatter of twigs striking the roof. At times, they could hear shingles blowing away. The storm went on for a long time, but even in the middle of the night, no one could more than half-sleep. By two o'clock, they would later learn, the winds had reached hurricane force. The line of trees behind the house was groaning and cracking under the strain. Harry started whining and hid his head beneath the blanket.

The cracking of branches seemed to cascade. There was a flash of light and a sound of an explosion across the street, and the lights went out. Amid the shouts, they flared back on, flashing a three times even brighter than normal before going out again.

With a crash, a limb came through the picture window, showering broken glass on the floor. The curtains flew open, and rain and wind lashed through the window frame.

"We have to get out of here," Dan shouted. "I'll cover up the window."

"Into the basement," Emma said, trying to pull up the screaming kids and drag them out of the room. Harry and Hermione felt a strange tingling in their nerves, reaching out into the chaos of the room. It was a tingling that Harry felt slightly whenever he changed, but almost never reaching outward.

"Watch your feet," Dan said, stepping over the glass. "There's a lot of—what the—"

All four Grangers watched in amazement as the shards of glass rose into the air. The children felt the strange energy flowing all around the room, and, suddenly, the shards flew back to the window and arranged themselves into the frame. The cracks melted into a spiderweb pattern and then vanished entirely. The rain and wind beat against the restored window, but it held, leaving only a large branch and a fair amount of water in the living room.

"Wow…" Dan said.

"Did you two do that?" Emma asked the children.

"I…I think so," Harry said.

"Uh huh," Hermione nodded.

There was a horrible, wrenching crunch from behind the house as a tree gave way entirely. The children screamed again, and the next thing anyone knew, the sofa flipped itself over and covered both of them. Their parents were caught by their shins and knocked to the floor. When they rose to their feet, all efforts to set the sofa upright again failed, as it seemed to be stuck to the carpet.

"Are you all right?" Emma said.

A face nearly hidden by a bushy head of hair peered out from under the arm of the sofa. "I'm okay," she said.

A whiskered face poked out from the other end and meowed once before pulling back in. Unable to right the sofa again or coax the children out, Dan and Emma had no choice but to sit on the floor with them until the storm ended.

The house was rattled from the tree's fall, but they would later learn it was mostly undamaged. The tree apparently fell against another tree, largely missing the roof. Over the next hour, the entire line of trees behind the house blew over one by one like a row of dominoes, miraculously missing all of the houses on the street.

It was past four by the time the wind finally died down. Only when the sounds outside were reduced to the calm patter of the rain did Harry and Hermione come out from under the sofa. When they finally did, their father quickly found that it wasn't stuck to the floor at all.

* * *

A grey tabby cat walked down the ruined street that afternoon. Limbs were still down everywhere. The street was barely clear enough to be navigable. Minerva was thankful that she had enough time to get away from school for a short while on a Friday. Albus didn't seem to think the storm was of much concern, but a quick owl to the Ministry confirmed that Accidental Magic Reversal Squad was being run ragged all over England by magical children who were frightened by the storm. Since the Grangers weren't in the official directory, she took it upon herself to check in on them.

Circling the house in cat form, Minerva could smell the residual magic from last night's events, focused on the living room. Changing in an inconspicuous spot, she went up to the door.

"Hello, Professor," Emma said when she answered the door. A letter that morning had warned them to expect company. "Thank you for checking up on us."

"I'm happy to help, Mrs. Granger. I'm afraid I only have a few minutes free, but after hearing about the storm, I wanted to see for myself that the children were alright and offer any assistance if you needed it."

"That's very thoughtful of you. Please come in. Kids, Professor McGonagall is here," she called up the stairs. The children's school had understandably been cancelled for the day.

Two tired, but otherwise healthy children descended the stairs, uncharacteristically wearing their shoes in the house. Minerva had noticed the wet floor.

"Hello, Professor," the children said.

"Hello, Harry. Hello, Hermione. I am glad to see you are doing well. I have heard reports of how bad the storm was, and after seeing your street, I can see they were not exaggerated."

"No, they weren't," Emma confirmed. "They're already saying it's the worst in living memory."

"Yes, well, I understand it was most frightening. My contacts at the Ministry say that nearly every magical child in England experienced some form of accidental magic last night. Would I be right in thinking the same thing happened here?"

The children blushed and looked down at their feet. "Yes, Professor," Hermione mumbled.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of," Minerva reassured them. "These things do happen in times of great stress. I daresay I know some adults who would lose control of their magic when faced with this level of devastation. We too often forget that magic pales in comparison with the power of nature. Normally, the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad would repair anything that was damaged by a magic discharge, but given your circumstances, this is not possible, so I came to take care of it myself. If you have anything that needs mending…" She trailed off, noticing that quite a few things needed mending, though not necessarily from magic.

"Actually, Professor, the children didn't break anything with magic," Emma said. She explained what she and her husband had witnessed the night before, and Minerva was relieved that all of their expressions of accidental magic were perfectly normal. The last thing she need was something else impossible happening around Harry Potter.

"Although, if you wouldn't mind, we would be grateful if you could help us with some of the storm damage," Emma concluded.

"Unfortunately, I cannot do anything about the outside of the house, since it would arouse suspicion. However, believe I could help you with your living room." Sure enough, a few drying charms and cleaning charms later, and the living room was as good as new.

"Thank you, Professor. You just saved us a lot of trouble." Minerva nodded.

"Professor?" a small voice said.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Is there a way to control magic without a wand?"

Minerva was surprised at the question, though she supposed she shouldn't be given the girl's background. It was yet another question that a pureblood wouldn't even think to ask about. "If you mean accidental magic, then yes," she explained. "As you grow older, you will find it much easier to control your magic when your are feeling strong emotions…However, if you mean controlling it to _use_ it, that is a rare talent, and not my field of expertise. Professor Dumbledore would have firsthand experience with it, but few others would." She paused as she saw Harry looking at her eagerly, and she remembered what Albus had said about the normal rules not applying to the boy. "Although I suppose if anyone could manage it, it would be the boy who mastered the animagus transformation at age five and his highly gifted sister," she said with an inward smirk. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must be returning to class. Good afternoon." She left the premises and apparated back to the gates of Hogwarts, wondering if she had just created more headaches for herself down the road.

Meanwhile, Hermione had dragged Harry back up the stairs enthusiastically. He braced himself as he recognised the look his sister got whenever she was on a mission.

"Harry, how did that accidental magic feel to you?" she asked when they had retreated to the privacy of her room.

"I don't know," her brother said. "Kinda like…tingling…like, in my arms."

"Like, sort of an electric feeling?"

"Yeah."

"That's how I felt, too. I bet if we can figure out how to control that feeling, we'll be able to do magic without a wand."

Harry thought about it. "Maybe…" he said, "but Professor McGonagall says it's hard."

"So? She doesn't know how you can turn into a cat, either."

"But neither do I."

"Well, it's still magic," Hermione insisted. "Do you feel the same when you change?"

He hadn't really thought of it that way before. "Um, a little, I guess, but in my chest more, and it's…kind of…hidden, like I have to go and find it. And then I have to concentrate on my cat form…"

"I think we should try to learn it," she insisted, matter-of-factly. "Maybe it's easier than Professor McGonagall thinks. And it could be useful later."

Harry knew better than to try to argue with his sister on that.

* * *

_November 1987_

Harry scrambled up to the top of the jungle gym. Climbing was second nature to him by now, and his dad had even suggested he take up rock climbing, although no one else the family was quite up to that. Hermione, Paul, and Tiffany followed him up. They had all become decent at climbing the metal bars in an effort to keep up with him, though of course none of them could.

On some days, the foursome climbed up and down all over the jungle gym, or migrated over to the swings, or went out and joined the football game in the field. Other days, like today, they just sat on top of the jungle gym and talked.

Paul was regaling them with stories of his cousin's wedding, which, by all accounts, had been barely-controlled chaos. First, the sound system failed entirely, then the groom had very nearly thrown up at the altar, and the organist had mixed up all the songs. Then, of course, there was the fact that the wedding cake had collapsed due to what his irate aunt had called "a bloody design flaw".

But when he told them how his crazy uncle had got drunk and started belting out show tunes to the entire reception, they lost it. Harry and Hermione clung tight, but Tiffany started laughing so hard that she lost her balance and fell off her bar.

Paul's shout of "Tiffany!" was immediately followed by Hermione's shout of "Harry!" as her brother lunged for their friend at an angle that seemed sure to knock him off as well. Paul and Hermione reached out to them, and the playground monitor ran to help, but none of them could get close enough past the bars. But everyone in sight stopped and gasped as they saw what happened next.

Harry was hanging upside-down, his knees wrapped around the bar, with Tiffany swinging safely by her hands at the end of his arms in what any Quidditch fan would have identified as a perfectly-executed (and very difficult) Serafini Snatch.

"Whoa!" Tiffany said, looking up to see Harry's face. "Th-th-thanks, Harry," she stuttered. She wrapped an arm and a leg around the bars and started to slowly climb down, having had enough heights for one day. "How did you do that?" she asked when she was back on _terra firma_.

"Yeah, that's what I'd like to know," the playground monitor said as she checked them over.

"I don't know. I just kinda did it." Harry said sheepishly.

"Those are some good reflexes, kid. You should go out for tennis or something."

Harry nodded, thinking from what he knew of the wizarding world that he would probably be more interested in the "or something".

* * *

_April 1988_

The Granger Family was out shopping for some new summer clothes when they happened upon a strange-looking individual. They immediately noticed two unusual traits about the little man. First, he was wearing all purple and bore more than a passing resemblance to the Mad Hatter. And second, he was conspicuously _bowing_ to Harry. Either one of those things by itself would have been enough to scream "wizard".

"Um, excuse me, do we know you, sir?" Dan said, approaching the man.

"Oh, no, you wouldn't, of course. Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle," the excited man said. He shook Dan's hand before zeroing in on Harry. "Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you…" He shook the seven-year-old's hand so vigorously that Harry considered utilising a karate move to get out of it before his mother pulled him away.

"P-pleased to meet you, sir," Harry muttered, a little shaken.

"Yes, we appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Diggle, but we _are_ trying to keep a low profile here," Emma said.

"Oh, of course, of course. No one will hear anything out of me; my lips are sealed."

"Thank you," she said curtly. They decided to move on to the next shop, away from the well-meaning, but over-eager fan. _Thank God they're not all like that_, they thought.

* * *

_August 1988_

Hermione stared at the torch she had set up on her bedside table, trying to feel the energy flowing around her. After comparing notes with Harry, they had determined that the most common effect of accidental magic they had experienced was flickering lights, and they also knew that strong magic interfered with electricity, so it was a natural idea. She decided to start small, and her first experiment in controlling wandless magic was to try to turn a torch off and on again.

She had started working on it off and on during the school year—and pestering Harry to do the same—but she had concentrated on it in earnest during the summer. Often, she didn't even get the torch out, instead just focusing on sensing her own magic. It was hard work, since her magic was normally buried so deep that she couldn't feel anything, except when she was too upset to pay attention to it. Harry, even with his control of his animagus ability, wasn't doing much better. But with careful meditation, recalling how she had felt during the Great Storm, she slowly brought it to the surface.

They had received an unexpected help from the wards around the house. Since they began paying attention to them, both children soon found that they could feel a slight tingle of magic every time they passed through them. That went a long way toward being able to identify the feeling of their own magic.

Though it was still difficult, Hermione now thought that she could sense the subtle feeling of magic flowing through her body, extending from her fingertips and encircling the torch in thin filaments. She grasped at the feeling and tried to channel more power into it. She felt the magic waver, nearly losing her grip, but it strengthened, and after carefully increasing the pressure, without moving the switch, the light bulb in the torch winked out.

"YES!"

Unfortunately, with her flow of magic forced open, Hermione's excitement had a stronger effect than she expected. The torch bulb exploded with a small pop, and the overhead lights flickered across the entire second floor.

"Hermione?" her mother knocked on the door. "What's going on?"

"Hermione?" Harry said from behind her. "I could feel that from my room."

"Feel what?" Emma said suspiciously.

_Well, this could get awkward_, they thought.

* * *

_July 1989_

"Hey, Mum, check it out!" Harry held up his hands, one above the other, with a pound coin floating and spinning in between them. After nearly a year's worth of work, he and Hermione successfully taught themselves to release their magic without destroying anything—mostly—and they soon turned their attention to levitation, the next obvious thing that Hermione suggested. They started with small things like scraps of paper, paper clips, and feathers, before moving up to slightly larger pens and coins. The results still weren't entirely reliable, and it usually took them some time to get it started, but they were making great progress, with Hermione consistently coming out a little ahead, to no one's surprise but her own.

Their parents had tolerated these "studies", despite the extra headaches they sometimes caused, since they knew it would be useful later, but this was not the best time.

"Harry, quit fooling around. The Tonkses will be here soon," Emma ordered.

"Sorry, Mum." He snatched the coin out of the air and pocketed it before going back to cleaning. He reflected that it was unfortunate that they hadn't figured out a way to clean the living room with magic. Hermione's efforts to speed up scrubbing the kitchen with magic similarly failed. Thankfully, conventional methods got the job done soon enough.

Outside, Ted and Andromeda Tonks approached the Granger House with their confused, pink-haired, teenage daughter in tow. Dora Tonks wasn't sure what to expect when her mother said that, as a reward for passing her O.W.L.s and "mostly" staying out of trouble this past year (though that had more to do with being too busy studying for O.W.L.s), "I think you're ready to see what's been going at the secret meetings I've been going to for the past few years."

Dora was a little annoyed; since she had been looking towards an Auror career for years, she knew how to keep a secret. But she was mainly torn between curiosity at what kind of secret meetings her parents could be going to and the worry that, even if secret, her mother's political meetings were likely to be profoundly boring.

But all that was replaced with utter confusion when her parents apparated her to a muggle neighbourhood south of London. This didn't look like politics; few politicians would be willing to stoop to this, even among the liberals. Moreover, they seemed to be approaching a house with a mailbox marked "The Grangers", which wasn't any wizarding family she'd ever heard of. Then, she crossed the property line and promptly froze in shock.

"Whoa, none of my friends have their houses protected this much," she said as she felt out the wards. "Not even Jason Denbright." The Denbrights were one of the richest families that had resisted He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's call during the war, and they had shelled out for what she had thought were pretty good wards, but not like this.

She could swear she saw her mother _smirk_ at her. What was this place? The whole setup screamed "deep cover", probably someone in hiding since they were so far from any other wizards. Amazingly, the obvious answer, given her mother's position, eluded her, mainly because she didn't pay enough attention to her mother's political work, and to the extent she did, she had no sense of her consulting with anyone.

Her mother knocked on the door, and a man about her parents' age answered it, wearing muggle clothes.

"Hello, Andi, Ted," the man said warmly.

_Andi? No one_ called Dora's mother Andi. Not even her father called her mother Andi, and Aunt Narcissa had got out of the habit, too. The only living person who called her that was supposed to be rotting in Azkaban.

"Good afternoon, Dan," Andi said, apparently unperturbed. "This is our daughter, Nymphadora."

Dan had looked at her strangely when she felt her hair bleach white in surprise. She willed it back to her normal bubblegum pink as she stammered out, "J-j-just Dora, please. Um, wotcher, Mr. Granger." She stepped forward and shook his hand.

"It's good to finally meet you, Dora," he replied. "Please come in." He led them into the living room, where the rest of the family was waiting. "Dora, I'd like to meet my wife, Emma, our daughter, Hermione, and you can probably recognise our adopted son—"

She spotted the scar right away. "Bloody hell, it's Harry Potter!" she yelled, very nearly falling over.

Harry's eyes went wide as he stared back at her, and the rest of his family flinched. "Bloody hell, your hair turned green!" he yelled back.

"Language!" all of the other females in the room said at once.

Dora's hair had not only changed to a bright, electric green, but was also sticking out in all directions as if it were electrically charged. With difficulty, she forced it back to normal. Then she laughed. She had just managed to surprise Harry Potter as much as he had surprised her. This meeting was looking up already.

"Dora is a Metamorphmagus," her mother explained. "She was born with a rare ability to change her physical appearance at will. It can get a little out of control when she gets excited, though."

She rolled her eyes at her mother and matched her mousy brown hair. Then she did something a little harder and copied both Harry's messy black hair and his facial features. She winked at him before shifting back.

Harry laughed at that. "Can you look like a cat?" he said.

"Harry!" Emma scolded.

But Dora was more than willing to take the challenge for him—and it was better than the boys at school usually asked to see. "Cat, huh, that's a tough one," she said. She had to do it step by step to get it right, first growing brown hair all over her face, then changing her nose and mouth to a cat's muzzle. Then the hard part: she pushed her ears up into large triangles on top of her head and morphed her eyes to vertical pupils. She held the pose for a moment before releasing it, her face snapping back like a rubber band. She took a deep breath of relief and shook her head to clear it.

"Wow, cool…" Harry said. "I grew my hair back once, but I think it was accidental magic."

"Probably," Andi said. "Dora's hair changed colour to whatever she was looking at for eight months after she was born."

Dora was quick to change the subject. "So, Harry…" she said, leaning towards the boy and working up the nerve to ask it. "How did you end up here in the muggle world?"

Harry told her the story, with just a little help from his…parents, she thought with a start. That was unexpected. He explained how he had been placed with a muggle aunt and uncle who were so mean that he ran away from home, eventually winding up with the Grangers, where his adoptive sister was a muggle-born witch. Dora was sure there was more to it than that, but the pieces still fell into place. She had heard the rumours that Harry had been placed with a muggle family, so he would have been raised with relatively little knowledge of the magical world—though surely more than nothing: he was Harry Potter after all. As his proxy, her mother was probably his main contact. And of course she would let a famous little boy call her Cousin Andi.

"Well, it looks like you've done pretty well for yourself," she told him. "Blimey, do you know how big this news is gonna be when you go to Hogwarts?"

"Unfortunately," Emma groaned.

"Oh…sorry."

"That's why Dumbledore wanted him in the muggle world in the first place," Andi said. "It's not about hiding anymore so much as it's about giving him some space."

"Dumbledore set up the wards didn't he?"

Dan and Emma looked surprised that she made the connection so quickly, but the children just nodded, knowing that she would have felt them upon entering.

"So what's new on the other side?" Dan changed the subject.

_The other side_?Dora thought. That was a new one.

"Well, the most important news is that Minister Bagnold announced her retirement, so there's going to be an election next spring," her mother said. "Unless Dumbledore surprises everyone and actually runs this time, it looks like the leading candidates are Barty Crouch, the head of Magical Law Enforcement, and Cornelius Fudge, the head of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes…It's hard to say who will win right now, and I'm not sure who I'm voting for either. Crouch took a tough line on the Death Eaters in the war, but he also sent his own son to die in Azkaban on, honestly, kind of shaky evidence. He's become known to be rash and belligerent. But Fudge, by all accounts, is ineffective, wishy-washy, and a politician's politician. He's been courting the neutrals in the Wizengamot so far, but he looks like the type who will be easy for Lucius Malfoy to buy out."

"Hmm, it sounds like either candidate would be a step down," Dan observed.

"Sadly, yes. Bagnold's done a pretty good job. I've tried to ask Amelia Bones—she's the Head Auror, Augusta Longbottom, and Elphias Doge to run, but none of them will touch it with a ten foot pole."

"Well, you always say, if you want something done right, do it yourself," Dora said, rolling her eyes. Her mother had been complaining about the election all month.

Andi glared at her. "And then Harry would need a new proxy. We need Enid Croaker free to cover the Black Seat, so the next in line would be Arthur Weasley, and, frankly, as good as he is behind the scenes, they'd eat him alive in the Chamber." Dora noted that she conveniently left out that she wouldn't touch the Minister position with a ten foot pole either. She heard Dan mutter something about "small town politics" under his breath.

"Anyway, I have a couple of initiatives I'm trying to push up to before the election, but you can read about those later." Andi said, handing over a sheaf of papers. "So, any plans for the rest of the summer?"

"Yes, we're going to Italy next month," Emma said.

"Oh wonderful," Andi replied. "I haven't been since I was a girl. My favourite was magical Naples, but the muggle sites are beautiful, too."

Dora soon struggled to keep up as her parents asked the Grangers about their plans and then about the children's time in school and their various exploits. Not having gone to muggle primary school, she wasn't familiar with some of the jargon, but she quickly got that Hermione was the quiet, bookish one while Harry was the more outgoing one. (_Good, he's gonna need it_, she thought.) But both of them by all accounts were very bright and…surprisingly normal. She hadn't quite expected Harry Potter to be like the books said, but it was hard not to picture a great wizard waiting in seclusion until the time he was needed, like Merlin.

Dora was interrupted from her thoughts when Hermione started asking her what Hogwarts was like.

"Well, it _is_ the most magical place in all of Western Europe," she said. "All towers and moving staircases. And floating candles and ghosts and…talking portraits."

"Talking portraits? Wow."

This was too easy with muggle-borns. "I bet you're excited to start learning magic when you're old enough, aren't you?"

Hermione blushed uncomfortably at that. Harry grinned nervously and then said, "Can we show them what we've been working on, Mum? Please?"

Their parents looked at each other, and Emma said, "Oh, I suppose so. It's not really a secret."

Harry smiled broadly. He took a coin from his pocket and placed it in his palm. He waved his other hand over it and started whispering to himself, "Come on, come on, come on…" Dora watched, wondering if he was actually going to do what he looked like he was trying. But with his continued effort, the coin rose into the air.

"Bloody hell!" Dora yelled.

"Sweet Merlin!" her mother said.

Her father fell back on his muggle upbringing with, "Good Lord!"

Dan and Emma started laughing at the Tonkses, which surprised them almost as much. Hermione stared intently at the coin and then, extending two fingers, slowly levitated it towards herself. Their visitors looked back and forth between the two children, open-mouthed.

"Really?" Dan said. "You're the ones who live in the magical world, and you find _that_ impressive?"

"_Wandlessly_?" Andi said. "At not quite age nine and ten? Yes. Most people never even try wandless magic, and almost no one gets good at it."

"But wouldn't it be useful?" Hermione said. "What if you lose your wand?"

"Losing your wand is a really serious…or at least the way most people think of it, it is. It basically means you've lost."

"Well, if you could levitate your wand back to you, you wouldn't have to lose."

Dora took an immediate interest in that. She was fast catching on to the muggle-raised children's ability to point out the obvious. She bet Mad-Eye Moody could do wandless magic just fine. "But how can you even do that? Haven't you got a warning for underage magic?"

Andi shook her head. "No, wandless magic. It'll show up as accidental magic at the Ministry."

"Oh, _now_ you tell me, Mum. So how did you learn it. Did you get a book or something."

"Oh, no, they taught themselves," Emma said.

"Really?"

"Mm hmm," Hermione nodded. "It took us almost two years to learn this, but it's getting easier. You have to feel for the magic and…sort of shape it to do what you want."

"We practised by feeling our wards," Harry added.

"Well, I know what I'm doing for my N.E.W.T. Charms project, now," Dora said. "I can't believe you kids are learning magic before you even start school."

"Well, we do need to train," Hermione said firmly.

"Train?"

"We want them to be as well trained in self-defence as possible," Dan explained soberly. "Just in case Voldemort ever comes back."

Dora let out a loud yelp and fell out of her chair.

"Dumbledore's influence," her mother said before she could cause a bigger scene.

"Blimey, Mum, warn me next time." The Grangers suppressed a snicker at her expense as she climbed back into her seat.

"Anyway, that's why they've been taking karate since we adopted Harry," Dan continued.

"What's karate?"

By the time the demonstration was over, Dora decided that at the rate these children were going, she might be taking lessons from _them_ one day. Both of them were brown belts, now, whatever that meant. Harry was a few months ahead of Hermione, but the speed and force with which they both moved were dazzling. Then Harry goaded their father into letting them use boards. When both children snapped three-quarter inch thick planks of wood clean in two with blows that Dora was sure could equally break her arms, she fell off her chair again. No doubt: if she went up against either of them without a wand, she would assuredly get her arse kicked. The wizarding world was in for a big surprise two years from now.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all, etc., etc.

A/N: And now, we wrap up Hermione's and Harry's pre-Hogwarts letters adventures. I know I didn't expect to be 60,000 words in already, but I've been very encouraged by all the positive reviews. Next chapter, Harry reenters the magical world.

The opening quote is taken from the classic _Doctor Who_ serial _Survival_, the final episode of which aired on 6 December 1989. The _Search out Science_ episode in question also exists and is just as absurd as Hermione describes. Yes, I am an über-nerd who has seen all 800 episodes of _Doctor Who_. What of it?

* * *

**Chapter 12**

_December 1989_

"_There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, and the sea's asleep, and the rivers dream. People made of smoke, and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice, and somewhere else the tea's getting cold. Come on, Ace—we've got work to do!"_

"Ace totally would have been cooler with super cat powers," Harry said.

"Well, of course _you'd_ say that," Hermione shot back. "I think it's better that she resisted violence and let the Doctor solve it."

"Girls," he muttered under his breath.

"_Well_," she put her hands on her hips, "isn't the show about brains over brawn, anyway?"

"I certainly think so," Emma defended her.

Harry mumbled something and turned away with a very feline look of ignoring them.

"You're not going to start going on about the thrill of the hunt, are you?" Hermione said anxiously.

"Maybe…" Harry said, staring back at her. He focused and tried to morph just his eyes and his teeth to cat form, but from Hermione's reaction, he didn't think it was working.

His sister rolled her eyes at him. "I'm just glad you're too small to hunt anything bigger than a squirrel."

Harry grinned evilly at her and hissed slightly, "How fast can you run, sister?"

"Ahhh!" Hermione ran up the stairs with Harry chasing her.

"Kids, behave!" their mother yelled up after them.

The lights flickered from hastily cast wandless magic. It still wasn't very powerful in direct effects, but the spillover could still be strong when the children got overexcited. A moment later a mewling black and white kitten ran flat out back down the stairs.

Emma took the first couple of steps up, then stopped and shook her head. "No, I don't want to know."

* * *

_April 1990_

That Saturday was easily the hardest and longest Harry had ever pushed himself—much harder than his weeks wandering as a kitten long ago, harder than his most rigorous efforts to train himself in magic. He had been specifically preparing for this day for a solid month. It was a full day of demonstrations, assessments, strength tests, and sparring matches. Paul and Tiffany had shown up to cheer him on, and Grandma and Grandpa Granger had come down from Manchester to see him, even though Grandma mostly hid her eyes whenever he was sparring on the floor. Cousins Ted and Andi were there, too, and even old Ms. Wilkins stopped by near the end of the day to see how here one-time case was doing, though no one was sure who had told her the test was that day. Sensei John commented that Harry seemed to be a very popular boy. His family silently recollected that he didn't know the half of it.

The day nearly ended in disaster early on when he landed a badly mis-aimed strike on his sparring partner, and pain shot up his arm. He knew enough to know that a botched strike like that could have broken his wrist, but after a few minutes of recovery, it seemed to be intact. An ankle rolling out from under him nearly floored him again, but he knew how to fall to avoid putting too much pressure on it, and he bounced right back up.

Most of Harry's demonstrations did go well, but it was still incredibly hard work. By the end of the day, his arms were aching from the strikes, and he was sure his legs were going to give out, but he somehow managed to keep his feet.

His final sparring match of the day came up, against one of the other equally-tired candidates who had been running the gauntlet all day—a boy who was four years his senior. Making the grade didn't depend on his winning the match, but it did depend on showing appropriate competence, even after everything else.

They put on their safety gear and bowed to each other, and then the match began, with fists and feet flying. Andi and Ted had been impressed with the children's demonstrations before, but seeing Harry hold his own like that against an equally-trained boy twice his size, moving like a trained Auror, even after a longer day than any battle of the war had been, brought the thought of the Boy-Who-Lived legend back to their minds. The difference was that he had done this himself by hard work. If he couldn't escape the legend, they thought, then at least he could make it his own.

An hour later, the candidates were lined up for the promotion ceremony. Most of them had passed, but not all. Sensei John stood up and spoke to the crowd: "Today, we recognise six students who have completed the mental, physical, and technical requirements for promotion to the rank of first dan, commonly known as a first-degree black belt. This rank is both a sign of skill and achievement and a call to continued study and self-improvement. Please step forward when I call your name to receive your belt and certificate…Sarah Armstrong…Charles Connor…Kathy McCoy…Adam Nicholson…Harry Potter…"

Harry's family and friends cheered as he stepped forward, and his father took pictures as he removed his brown belt, and Sensei John tied a black belt around his waist. "And I will add that Harry is the youngest first dan recipient we've had in three years. Congratulations, Harry." Harry bowed to Sensei John and hugged him in thanks. He returned to the adulation of his family, humming to himself, as "Tyler Spencer" was the last to receive a belt that day.

"Congratulations, Harry," Hermione said, hugging him. "I just hope I can get mine before we go to…boarding school," she said with a glance around.

"Of course you will, Mione," Harry told her. "You've still got over a year."

"But I'm not even at first kyu yet," she said.

"But you test next week, and you'll definitely pass. No one else has the moves memorised as well as you do."

She smiled weakly. She'd been training for her test as much as Harry had been training for his. "Thanks Harry."

"I think this calls for a celebration," Dan said. "What do you say we go out for barbecue?"

"Really? Yes!" Harry yelled, leaping in triumph. With his strong taste for red meat, he always enjoyed the one American-style barbecue restaurant for miles around. The rest of his family had never seen the appeal, but this was a day worth celebrating in his preferred way.

* * *

_June 1990_

The Granger Family strolled past the rides during their annual trip to Blackpool Pleasure Beach, heading back for another spin on the Wild Mouse (a ride Harry insisted was very aptly named). Dan and Harry were bigger fans of the roller coasters than Emma and Hermione, but they all had a lot of fun whenever they went, and Harry especially couldn't get enough of them. After everything he had heard about Quidditch, he was eager to learn to fly, and this was the closest he was going to get until he could get his hands on an actual broom.

They paid no attention to the gaggle of boys and a couple of adults passing them in the other direction until one of the boys yelled out, "Come on, we have to get to the Avalanche!"

"Hold your horses, Dudley," a stern voice sounded from a woman who was clearly unhappy with having to chaperon.

Harry froze stiff. He knew those voices. And today was the 23rd, wasn't it? "Dudley!" he squeaked out.

The boy who was shouting stopped and turned to look at him. Harry also snapped around to face the boy, who immediately spotted the scar on his forehead.

"Harry?" Dudley Dursley said in shock. Dudley wasn't fat anymore; he was still a little chunky, but he looked to be in decent shape and was dressed up more than was really ideal for an amusement park.

"What? What was that?" A large, dominating woman with shoulder-length blond hair and a slight moustache stepped forward and looked down her nose at Harry: Majorie Dursley. She also recognised the scar and the awful messy hair, and a scowl crossed her face.

Harry hunched over, staring up at the woman, unblinking, bared his teeth, and bent slightly at the knees in preparation to flee. He had to fight his first instinct to change to cat form and run away—and his second instinct to throw out a wild karate kick at the pair.

"Harry, calm down," Hermione ordered, taking him by the shoulder. His family knew that pose too well—the human version of a scared-angry cat pose. It had surfaced a few times when he had first started sparring in karate, and it had never ended well.

Unfortunately, his former aunt couldn't keep her opinion to herself. "Harry Potter!" she said disdainfully. "I didn't think I should ever see _you_ again. You're the little brat who gave my brother so much trouble."

"Aunt Marge…" Dudley said nervously, trying to warn her off Harry's obvious anger. He didn't really know about magic _per se_, but Vernon had made it abundantly clear to his son that it was Harry's "freakishness" that had got him sent to prison.

"_Excuse me_, Madam," Dan stepped in front of Harry, looking her straight in the eye. "I'll thank you not to talk to our son that way."

Marge Dursley was not accustomed to people standing up to her. "So you're the adoptive parents then?" she said, taking the same tone with Dan as she had with Harry. "I do hope you're keeping that boy in line. I can't endorse my brother's methods, but the boy was nothing but trouble from the start."

Dan bristled. "The only _trouble_ that boy ever had was how _your_ brother treated him, Ms. Dursley. He's always been the best son we could have hoped for with us."

Marge wasn't backing down. "_If _that's so, then you're lucky," she said. "Trouble runs in his family. Comes from the mother, of course. I see it all the time in dogs. I'm sure you know about that worthless drunk—died in a car crash, and then her sister—"

"Don't talk about my mother like that!" Harry screamed. The air began to swirl loudly around them.

"Harry, stop!" Hermione yelled, jumping in front of him.

"Aunt Marge, watch out!" Dudley whimpered. "He's gonna use his freakishness!"

Emma wrapped her son in a hug from behind. "Harry, calm down, it's okay."

Hermione felt Harry's magic subside and then whirled around to face his relatives. "Both of you leave Harry alone!" she said.

Aunt Marge was unimpressed. "And just who do you think you are, little girl?"

"I'm Harry's sister, Hermione…and I'm a more powerful freak than he is!"

Dudley went very pale and whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble."

Dan intervened again before Marge could say anything further. "And if you won't listen to her, you'll listen to me. Leave. My. Family. Alone."

She finally broke under his stare. "Come along Dudley," she said, grabbing her nephew by the wrist and dragging him back to the group. "There's no need for us to associate with _these_ people. Loons the lot of them."

She kept muttering under her breath, but Dudley looked back to them and nervously called out, "Harry, I'm…sorry…about before…" He turned away and kept walking. He might not like his cousin, but he couldn't help but feel a little solidarity with him since Aunt Marge was always so fond of insulting both of their mothers in the same breath.

* * *

_December 1990_

"This is the last easy chance we'll have to tell them," Dan said whilst pouring himself a cup of tea. He was sure he was going to need it.

"I know," Emma replied.

"I wish it didn't have to be at Christmas, too, but it's getting harder for them to come around at any other time."

"Dan, we have this conversation every year. I know it'll have to be Christmas if we tell them at all. It's just…it's going to be hard to spring on them. You know how hard it was for us."

"How could I forget? But I can't stand keeping secrets from my parents anymore. They deserve to know their grandchildren are magical."

"You're not going to tell them everything, are you?" Emma said. "About Voldemort and all that?"

"No, I don't think they need to know all the details. But it's bad enough the kids won't be able to use wands outside of school—according to Andi. Mum and Dad should at least be able to know where they're going to school and why."

"And are we going to have the kids demonstrate their wandless magic for them?"

"Well, that was the idea…Look they haven't destroyed anything in months, and they're good enough at it now to do it convincingly."

"Isn't that about what you said last year, Dan?"

"Maybe, but…but you can't deny they've got better, Emma. I think they're ready."

Emma sighed. "I'm sure _they_ are, but I'm worried about how your parents will react. You know they're more traditional than we are about that kind of thing. And with Harry's history…"

"I know, dear, but I really think if we explain it, Mum and Dad will understand."

Emma sat down and took a sip of tea. "Well, you're right, it is the last Christmas before they go to school. I guess we can warn the kids, and if they're okay with it, we'll tell them."

Dan kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you, dear. The only other question is do we tell them before or after Christmas."

She laid her forehead on her hands. "In other words, do we risk ruining Christmas or pull a bait-and-switch on them?"

"Or you could say, do we get it out of the way early or wait until the holiday stress is over?"

"Not helping, Dan."

"Well, the kids are old enough to make their own decisions, now. Come on, let's go talk to them."

The headed out to the living room, where the kids were watching the tail end of whatever the television show _du jour_ was, which didn't seem to have impressed them.

"I still can't believe they haven't made any more _Doctor Who_," Hermione complained.

"Well, there was that _Search Out Science_ episode," Harry said.

"Which was _completely_ ridiculous. Honestly, why wouldn't the _robot_ be able to figure out the puzzles. And Ace doesn't make sense on a quiz show either. I just hope they get the show started again before we go to Hogwarts."

"Don't worry, we can always tape it," Dan interrupted. "Hermione, Harry…we need to talk."

* * *

The children decided, even after their mother's warning, to tell their grandparents before Christmas on the evening they arrived. After dinner, they all sat around the living room, with a few candles lit for the season, and Dan turned off the telly for a serious discussion.

"Mum, Dad, listen." he said, struggling to meet their eyes. "There's something we've been keeping from you…Something pretty major."

"Dan, what's wrong?" Grandma said.

"Nothing's wrong, Mum. That's not what I meant." He took a deep breath. "The truth is that Hermione and Harry are…magical."

Grandma and Grandpa both broke into an uncertain laugh. "Magical?" Grandma said. "What do you mean."

"I mean Hermione is…" He still thought the term was unfortunate. "A witch, and Harry is a wizard. They can do magic."

"Magic?" Grandpa said. "You mean like a stage show…"

He stopped as Hermione waved her hand towards an empty teacup in small a swish-and-flick pattern, and it rose into the air. Harry followed suit with the saucer.

"Oh…my…goodness…"

The children floated the teacup and saucer around the room. Grandpa frantically ran his hands all around them to check for wires. Even after all this time, these were still about the largest things they could levitate, but they could at least do it on command, now, and Hermione reasoned that if it was enough to pick up a wand, that was the most important skill they could learn.

"How…but that's impossible."

"No, it's magic," Hermione said proudly.

Grandpa sat open-mouthed. He tapped a finger against the teacup, and it drifted away. "You did that just by…just by waving your hand?"

"We'll be able to do more when we get wands," Hermione said. "We'll be old enough to buy wands next summer."

"So this is…real magic?" Grandma said. "You can wave a wand and say _abraca—_"

"No!" four voices shouted. The teacup and saucer fell. The saucer hit the corner of the coffee table and cracked in two.

"Sorry," Harry muttered in embarrassment. He picked up the two haves of the saucer and set them together on the table. He ran a finger over the crack, and the pieces fused together again. Grandma's and Grandpa's eyebrows shot up.

"No, I'm sorry," Dan explained. "I should explain. We uh…we told you that Harry's birth parents were killed in a terrorist attack. But the truth is that it was a magical terrorist, and he used a dark spell that sounds a lot like that word…He's gone, now…" _Basically. _"But it's still not a word that you want to say around magical people."

"Oh, my! That's terrible. I'm so sorry, Harry," Grandma said.

Harry blinked at her slowly and then nodded, snapping back into human etiquette.

"Luckily, as far as we know, _alakazam, bippity boppity boo, hocus pocus, open sesame, presto chango, _and _sim sala bim _are all complete nonsense," Emma said, trying to lighten the mood. Cousin Andi had been quite amused by that list.

"We have been working on some other real spells, though," Hermione said eagerly.

Grandma and Grandpa looked rather uncomfortable, but they nodded for the children to continue. Hermione pointed at one of the candles, and it blew out. Harry repeated her action with another candle, though noticeably slower, and between them, they extinguished all of the candles in the room. Then, Hermione extended her hand toward the first candle and, with a look of concentration, snapped her fingers. The candle lit up. They didn't get all of them on the first try, but all of the candles in the room were soon burning again. Their grandparents sat silently.

Hermione then held up a sheet of paper from a notebook and, with a two-fingered swipe, cut it in half. Harry successfully repeated the feat.

"With a little more practice, that'll be great for chopping vegetables," their mother said.

"Okay, that's enough," Grandpa said sharply. "Look…Dan…I don't fully understand what's going on here, but this…this isn't safe. I mean, dabbling in the occult, conjuring spirits…"

"Dad, it's not that kind of magic." Dan was silently relieved that his father's reaction wasn't any worse. "They're not conjuring spirits or anything like that. They were born with it."

"It's genetic, Robert," Emma admitted. "Harry's birth parents were magical, and so were my grandparents on my mother's side."

"But this defies the laws of science. It's not natural," Grandpa insisted. Harry stiffened, but said nothing.

"Only as we know them," Emma countered. "You know Dan and I are trained in the sciences. Believe me, we were as shocked as you are. But electricity, television, computers—they all would have been called magic two hundred years ago. We _still_ don't understand how the brain works or how life began, but we probably will one day. Everything we've seen so far seems to suggest that there's nothing _really_ supernatural about what wizards call 'magic'. It's just science that we don't understand yet."

"She right, Dad," her husband said. "We've seen some magic ourselves, and we've read a lot about magical history, and it reads a lot more like inventions and machinery and computer programs than it does mediums and occult rituals. We honestly believe that it could be broken down scientifically if we had the opportunity."

Grandpa leaned back and his seat and closed his eyes, trying to process what he had just seen.

"But—why didn't you tell us?" Grandma exclaimed.

"We wanted to, Vera," Emma explained. "We very nearly did last year. But wizards have laws to keep magic a secret from mu—from non-magic people." She was amazed at how easily she fell into the jargon after this many years. "Technically, we're not even supposed to tell you, but they'll look the other way because you're close family. You certainly can't tell anyone else."

"And more to the point," Dan added, "we wanted to wait until Harry and Hermione were good enough at magic to demonstrate it to you," Dan added. "It's taken them all this time just to get this far, and believe me, they've barely got started."

"Wait, laws?" Grandpa said.

"There's a whole society with its own government, Dad. There's about ten thousand of them in Britain."

"That's why we wanted to tell you," Emma said. "Next fall, the kids will be going to a magical boarding school in Scotland to learn actual spells. It's supposed to be the best in the world. You deserve to know where they're going and what kind of education they're getting."

Grandpa sighed heavily. "A school? A government? Magical science…?" He was silent for a long time. "Well, you're right about one thing…it _will_ be great for chopping vegetables."

The tension broke. The other adults started laughing, and the children broke into broad smiles and leapt up to hug their grandfather. Dan and Emma all but collapsed into tears when they went to bad that night over how well Robert and Vera had taken the news.

The next few days were filled with wonder and laughter as the two of them we regaled with tales of the magical world. Dan and Emma told them the "official" story of how they had met Harry, and about his cousins and the few other magicals they had met. The children shared the more humorous episodes they had read in _A History of Magic_ and their favourites from _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ that Cousin Andi had sent them last year. And of course, they answered the older Grangers' many questions about Hogwarts and the magical world in general.

When Christmas morning came, two owls appeared outside the kitchen window. Ted and Andi had sent Hermione an autographed copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ by Bathilda Bagshot and had sent Harry an autographed copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_, which was somewhat more impressive considering they had never even heard of Kennilworthy Whisp. Dora had sent each of them a box of Honeydukes chocolate, which even Harry had to agree was some of the best he'd ever had. An attached note said that the candy was "safe for muggle consumption," prompting some concern that there might be some out there that wasn't. In the end, it was universally agreed in the Granger household that this was the best Christmas ever.

* * *

_January 1991_

"Today, we recognise three students who have completed the mental, physical, and technical requirements for promotion to the rank of first dan," Sensei John repeated the standard speech. "This rank is both a sign of skill and achievement and a call to continued study and self-improvement. Please step forward when I call your name to receive your belt and certificate…Hermione Granger…"

Hermione ran forward eagerly, barely containing a squeal of glee that really ought to be beneath her maturity level, she thought. She also very nearly bowled over Sensei John when she hugged him after he gave her her black belt.

"Hermione is the second black belt in her family," he said. "Her brother, Harry Potter, made first dan last year. Sadly, Hermione and Harry will be leaving us this fall when they go to boarding school in Scotland. They have been two of the most dedicated students I have ever had the pleasure to teach, and while we'll be sorry to see them go, I'm sure they will be continuing their training with the same enthusiasm they've put into the last five years."

"Yes, Sensei John," Hermione said firmly. Her family smiled knowingly.

* * *

_July 1991_

"Why, Professor McGonagall, what a surprise."

"Good morning, Mrs. Granger. I hope this is not a bad time," said the witch who was uncharacteristically dressed in muggle clothes that, if a little old-fashioned, looked perfectly normal.

"Not at all. Please come in." Emma led her to the kitchen, where the rest of the family was eating breakfast.

"Oh, good morning, Professor," Dan said when he saw her.

"Good morning, Professor," the children echoed.

"Cup of tea?" Emma asked.

"No thank you. I'm afraid I can't stay for long. Harry, Hermione, I'm here because I have something very special for both of you." She drew two envelopes from a sheaf of parchments. "These are your Hogwarts acceptance letters."

Both children gasped in delight and rose from their seats. They waved their hands toward McGonagall, and the letters levitated out of her hand and across the table, where they snatched them out of the air. Her eyebrows rose in surprise. These two were becoming entirely too proficient for their own good.

"Children! That's…not polite," Emma scolded.

"Sorry," they mumbled.

McGonagall lapsed back into her stern professor voice: "Mr. Potter, I am certain that you and your sister are going to be just as much a handful as your father and his friends were. Merlin help us all." A nervous laugh circled the room as Harry and Hermione read their letters.

"We await your owl by no later than 31 July?" Harry asked in confusion.

"Oh, you won't need to worry about that. I had to remind the Headmaster that you don't actually _have_ an owl," McGonagall said. She turned to the rest of the family. "There is an orientation to the magical world for muggle-born students on Saturday beginning from Kings Cross Station in London, which I encourage all of you to attend. You will be able to do your shopping at that time, and I will of course accompany you personally to fend off Harry's admirers."

Dan and Emma quickly looked over the letters. "Thank you, Professor. That's very generous of you. We'll be there, of course," Dan said.

"Excellent. I apologise for cutting this short, but I have five more visits to make today, and all of those will require a great deal more explaining."

The Grangers all nodded knowingly, thanking the fates that they had got their introduction to the magical world out of the way when Harry first showed up on their doorstep.

"We'll see you Saturday, then," Emma said.

"Indeed. Good day." She showed herself out.

"I can't believe we're finally going to Hogwarts!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I can," Harry teased her. "We've known about it for years."

"But we never get to see it. And _Hogwarts, A History_ says it's unplottable, so we couldn't even find it without using magic. And we haven't even been to magical London yet."

"Well, we'll all get our chance this weekend," Emma said. "We should probably send a letter to Cousin Andi. I'm sure she'll want to know about this…Dan?"

Her husband was still looking over the letters. "Is it a bad sign that this supply list actually makes sense to me?" he said.

Emma laughed. "Get used to it, Dan. We're in this for the long haul, now."

"Yes, dear."


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: JK Rowling is watching you.

Parts of this chapter have been quoted from _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_.

A/N: I have decided to use a high exchange rate of 51.25 pounds to the galleon here, as is common in fanfiction. I know the "official" rate is 5 pounds to the galleon, but most of the prices given in the books suggest a much higher rate.

And I finally changed the cover art to something more appropriate. Yay, Photoshop!

* * *

**Chapter 13**

The Grangers arrived at Kings Cross Station on early on Saturday morning, and in a rare occurrence, possibly the only time it would happen, they knew less than the other muggle-born families did. For starters, it seemed odd to be meeting at a train station when the shopping was in London anyway, which the others had presumably had explained to them.

They reached Platform Ten early. They weren't sure how they would identify the other muggle-born witches and wizards before McGonagall got there. Harry and Hermione couldn't sense magic unless someone cast a spell—or if Harry changed to cat form. But they needn't have worried. When they reached Platform Ten, there was a well-dressed couple and a tall, dark-haired boy wandering around the area, looking confused.

"Oh my goodness," Emma said, "is that Sir William Finch-Fletchley?"

Dan looked closely at the family. "Yes, I think it is. Who would have thought?"

"Who's he?" Hermione asked.

"We've seen him at charity functions a couple of times," her mother answered. "The Finch-Fletchleys are very active in London society. They do have that 'new to magic' look, though."

Dan walked up to the man in a suit and said, "Excuse me, Sir William? Are you waiting for Professor McGonagall here?"

The Finch-Fletchleys turned to see the newcomers in surprise. "Yes, we are, Mister…"

"Granger. Daniel Granger. I think we may have met at some function or other."

"Could be. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Granger. This is my wife, Phyllis, and our son Justin."

"Likewise," Dan said. "My wife, Emma, our daughter, Hermione, and our adopted son, Harry Potter. They both start at Hogwarts this year."

The Finch-Fletchleys raised their eyebrows at how Dan had singled out Harry, but they were interrupted before they could get an explanation.

"Hogwarts?" a voice called from down the platform. "Is this the Hogwarts group?"

"Yes, come on over," Emma said.

A family of four approached them, and a boy with dirty-blond hair was introduced to Harry and Hermione as Kevin Entwhistle. His sister, Annabel, appeared to be a couple years younger, but excitedly told anyone who would listen that she was a witch, too.

A few minutes later, a single mother came hurrying up to Platform Ten with three children in tow. They introduced themselves as the Boot family; Terry Boot, the oldest, looked excited, but the younger pair seemed to be annoyed that their mother had dragged them out of the house on a Saturday. They were definitely the most dressed-down family on the platform. Even after all these years, Harry could easily tell that all three children were in secondhand clothes, though they at least fit properly.

They had just got through the latest round of introductions when there was a loud crack at the corner of the platform, and Professor McGonagall appeared with a father and daughter, who promptly tumbled to the ground in a heap.

"My apologies," McGonagall said as they staggered to their feet. "Portkey travel can be difficult for the uninitiated." She scanned the small crowd that had gathered around her. "Good, it appears that we're all here. I would like to introduce Malcolm and Sophie Roper. The Perks Family was not able to join us today. Thank you all for coming. This is the official orientation for all muggle-born—and muggle-raised—" she added, eyeing Harry, "students attending Hogwarts this fall. Now, the first order of business is to acquaint all of you with the way your children will be getting to the school.

"The Hogwarts Express leaves at precisely eleven o'clock on the 1st of September from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. I have all of your tickets here."

Several heads turned back and forth between the signs for Platform Nine and Platform Ten. McGonagall handed the tickets to the parents and led them a few paces to the barrier.

"The entrance to Platform Nine and Three Quarters is concealed by the barrier here. A witch or wizard, or anyone wearing an Anti-Anti-Muggle Charm, can simply walk through the wall onto the platform, like this." She turned around and walked forward. There were gasps of astonishment when she reached the wall and disappeared.

A moment later, she came back out of the wall and faced the group. "I would like all of you to step through the barrier so that you know what to expect…Many people prefer to do it at a run until they get used to it."

There were nervous glances around the group, as no one wanted to step forward to try it, but Harry and Hermione looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. It wasn't as if this was the weirdest thing they'd ever done. They took off and dashed through the barrier before anyone could speak. Their parents rolled their eyes and followed them at a brisk walk.

They emerged onto a spacious and brightly-lit train platform with what looked like a solid brick wall at their backs. There was no train at the platform, and the row of little shop stalls that lined the platform was empty, but they could tell it would be quite the sight when all the students were there, going off to school.

The Finch-Fletchleys nearly ran them over when they emerged from the wall behind them. "Adventuresome pair you've got there, Granger," Sir William said.

"Oh, you have no idea," Dan replied. "Although we've seen stranger things. We actually found out about magic a few years ago from, erm, a freak coincidence."

"Really? Must be nice. The rest of us only found out on Wednesday, besides what we guessed. I really wish they would have told us sooner. When your son starts setting new clothes he doesn't like on fire with his mind, magic is about the least frightening answer you can think of. Did you ever have anything like that?"

Dan raised an eyebrow and considered advising his children to keep a safe distance from Justin Finch-Fletchley, but he truthfully answered, "Trust me, we've seen stranger."

"Ahem," McGonagall said after all of them had come through. "Thank you. On the 1st of September, the signage for the Hogwarts Express should be self-explanatory. We will now proceed to Diagon Alley, which is the main magical shopping district in London. It is just a few blocks' walk to the east. Follow me, please."

"I wish I could do magic now," Annabel Entwhistle complained as they left the station. "I have to wait two more years to get a wand." The two younger Boot siblings nodded in agreement.

Harry and Hermione slipped back to walk beside them. "Actually," Harry whispered, "we've been learning to do magic without wands."

"Really!" Annabel whispered back. "How do you do that?"

"It helps if you have something magic to practice with," Hermione explained. "You have to feel for how the magic feels."

"It's kinda tingly and electric," Harry added.

"Or like when you do accidental magic. Once you can feel it, you can try to control it—but it takes a while. It took us over a year."

"Oh…" Annabel said, disappointed. "Well I'm still gonna try it." The others agreed. Harry grinned, wondering if they had just started a new trend.

McGonagall led them down the street until they came to a small pub that, even to magical sight, looked a tad on the seedy side. Hermione and Harry hesitated in front of it. They knew that from the moment they stepped into the pub, Harry was reentering the magical world, and nothing would ever be the same after that.

"This is the Leaky Cauldron," Professor McGonagall said, "where the entrance to Diagon Alley is located. Mr. Potter, you and your family please stay close to me. I think you can guess how this will go."

"What's that about," Justin called after them as the Grangers braced themselves.

"Oh, my sister's very famous," Harry said over his shoulder.

Hermione smacked him on the arm. "Prat. My brother's actually a well-known war hero," she corrected. That, of course, seemed just as made up to the others, but they would find out soon enough, like it or not. They stepped into the pub.

The place was just as dark and shabby inside as out. A group of old women were sitting down to lunch in one corner and a group of old men in another. A man in a familiar purple top hat was sitting at the bar, causing the Grangers to groan inwardly. Several people looked over and waved happily to the new crop of students coming in.

The bartender had to be over a hundred years old, if Dumbledore and Bathilda Bagshot were any indication. He was completely bald, hunched over the bar, and he adjusted a set of wooden teeth with a knobby hand that everyone prayed he washed regularly. "Good morning, Minerva," the old man said. "Taking the muggle-born students out today?"

"Yes, Tom, just passing through," McGonagall answered, trying to hurry Harry along.

Unfortunately, Tom had already fixed his eyes on the boy's forehead. "Bless my soul, it can't be…" The entire pub went dead silent. Tom leaned closer, squinting, then he jumped and stumbled out from behind the bar. "It is! Harry Potter, returned at last. Welcome back, sir. Welcome." Tom was crying as he shook Harry's hand.

They was a great clatter of chairs being knocked down and feet tripping over one another as Harry suddenly found himself mobbed by the entire patronage of the Leaky Cauldron. His family and McGonagall tried to keep a hold of him while all of the other muggle-born families were unceremoniously shoved back to the walls.

"So proud to be meeting you, Mr. Potter."

"All of a flutter, sir—such an honour!"

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter. I can hardly believe you're finally back."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Potter."

"You saved us all, sir."

"I just know my family was next on You-Know-Who's list."

"Mr. Potter, you gave us all hope."

The crowd was pressed in too close for Harry to do anything but shake any hands that got close enough. A few karate chops would be useless against this crush, and his father had him tightly by his other arm anyway. He barely noticed McGonagall shouting. He was in imminent danger of being ripped from his parents' grasp and lift on the crowd's shoulders when she drew her wand.

BANG!

A bright flash and a shower of sparks streamed from the end of McGonagall's wand, and the crowd backed off. "Mr. Potter is just now becoming reacquainted with the magical world," she said with a voice that could cut steel, "and he could do without this excessive and misplaced adulation for a victory that was, in all likelihood, his late mother's doing. He also has a great deal of shopping to do today, as, I might add, do the several muggle-born students whom I am escorting, and we really must be getting on our way."

At that speech, the patrons sat down in shame, though they still stared and craned their necks to get a glimpse of the Boy-Who-Lived. The pub was filled with whispers about "Harry Potter" and "You-Know-Who" as the group made their way to the back.

"Good God, you would have thought Paul McCartney had walked in," said Sir William Finch-Fletchley. "Granger…is Harry really seen as a war hero here?"

"Unfortunately," Dan replied, "but he was only a year old at the time, and he's been laying low in the muggle world ever since. Long story. You'll find books about it in the shop."

More eyebrows were raised as the other families wondered just what had happened with this boy. Hermione was shaking as she stood by her brother's side.

"I apologise to all of you for that," McGonagall said as they squeezed into the small walled courtyard behind the pub. "The patrons of the Leaky Cauldron tend to be the more…excitable sort, but I'm afraid I underestimated their reactions. The people in Diagon Alley should be more…sober, at least. And Mr. Potter, I really do believe things will be better for you once the novelty's worn off. Now, then, to get into Diagon Alley, you need to find the brick three bricks up and two across from the rubbish bin. Tap the brick three times with either a wand or one of your charmed necklaces, like so."

A small hole opened in the brick in question and widened until it became an archway wide enough to walk four abreast. Thoughts of the mob behind them were momentarily pushed aside as the group beheld the wonder of Diagon Alley.

It was by far the most magic even the Grangers had seen. Along the crooked cobblestone street were shops selling all sorts of items from cauldrons to telescopes to broomsticks to barrels of bat wings to things they didn't even recognise. Owls of every description winged their way through the air with letters in their beaks. Little outdoor stalls sold food and magazines and all sorts of little charmed trinkets, whizzing through the air or hopping in little circles along the ground. The colours were dazzling, if rather gaudy in some places.

When they had all seen their fill from the archway, the group stepped out into the Alley so they had more room. The arch closed behind them.

McGonagall began handing out sheets of parchment to each family. "These are maps of the Alley," she explained. "I would advise you all to stay in Diagon Alley and not to venture into Knockturn Alley, which is, quite frankly, what you would call a bad sort of neighbourhood. I will be accompanying Mr. Potter and his family personally for the afternoon. I trust you can each handle your own shopping, although if you need help, _most_ of the shoppers and shopkeepers in the Alley are usually helpful to muggle-born students. You will, however, first want to follow us to Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Some of the shops accept pounds, but you will at some point need to convert them to galleons and optionally open up an account. To be safe, you will probably want to convert thirty galleons for supplies and any other purchases you wish to make. Afterwards, we will meet up at Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour at five o'clock. Are there any questions? No, then follow me, please."

She led the pack of muggle-born families down the Alley. A number of people spotted Harry and pointed him out, but seeing him flanked closely by three adults, one of whom they knew for a strict professor who was now brandishing a wand with a fierce look, they kept their distance. A little ways down the Alley, they came to a towering marble building that looked like something transplanted from ancient Greece. Standing beside the main doors were two strange little humanoid creatures in scarlet and gold uniforms. They were rather unattractive creatures, bald, with pale, dome-shaped heads, long, pointed noses and ears, and very long fingers that ended in yellow claws. They were barely four feet tall, but the large, wicked battle axes they carried dispelled any doubt that they meant business. The newcomers hesitated before coming near.

"Gringotts is run by the Goblin Nation," McGonagall explained. "They look intimidating, but if you deal with them politely, they will reciprocate." She walked toward the doors and bowed to the guards, who bowed in return. One of the guards made a subtle gesture, and the doors opened on their own. The other visitors bowed as they passed the guards. The Grangers began to wonder silently, though. _A History of Magic_ spoke far more about "Goblin Rebellions" than about the creatures running the banks.

A pair of silver doors flanked by another pair of guards led into the building from a small foyer. On the doors was engraved:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

"Hey, I like that," Harry said. "I should put that on the door of my room or something."

"Ha! _Your _room?" Hermione shot back. "You're the one who's always taking my books."

"They're not just your books, Mione—"

"Kids, not now," Emma cut them off.

They entered through the silver doors. A long row of counters lined each side of a large, if dimly-lit chamber. Dozens of goblins sat behind them, figuring and ciphering and weighing coins and jewels. Behind the counters, tellers were leading witches and wizards through doors to stone passages that must have led off to the vaults. McGonagall made for one of the counters seemingly at random.

"Good morning," she said. "Harry Potter needs to access his vault, and I suspect his adoptive parents would like to open one for his sister."

The goblin eyed said adoptive parents with suspicion. There were enough people coming in lately pretending to be Harry Potter to get access to the Potter Vault. "Do you have his key, madam?" he asked McGonagall.

She pulled a small gold key out of her handbag and placed it on the counter. The goblin picked it up and recognised its magical signature at once as a genuine Gringotts key. "Excuse me a moment," he said.

The Grangers looked at each other in confusion. Behind them, the other families had fanned out to convert their money. A minute later, the teller returned with a stack of papers. Dan and Emma were surprised to see the one on top was a copy of Harry's muggle adoption papers. Under that was what looked like an account statement written in a strange, angular script on parchment.

"How interesting," the teller said as he examined the statement.

"Yes?" Dan said.

The teller looked up and stared at him with black eyes. "It would appear that a portion of the Potter Fortune was set aside in trust by James and Lily Potter for education costs—tuition and supplies—both for Harry Potter _and_ any adoptive siblings of his."

Dan's and Emma's eyes went wide. "You mean…You mean Hermione's education is completely paid for?" he said.

"May I?" McGonagall said, looking pointedly at Harry. At a nod from him, she examined the statement for herself. "It would appear so, Mr. Granger. There are five thousand galleons in this allocation, easily enough to put three students through Hogwarts or two through a mastery."

Dan and Emma stared at each other and started laughing, prompting annoyed grunts from the tellers. Hermione began crying and hugged her brother. Of course, they could have supported both children through school on their own if they had to, but it was wonderful to see that Harry's birth parents had been so considerate to pay for the children of any family that had taken him in. Harry had to wonder if some of that money had been once been intended for Dudley—almost certainly not _intended_, he decided, but they must have considered the possibility.

Dan took the statement to see it for himself, and Hermione broke away and stood on her toes to look. "And how much is a galleon, exactly?" he asked.

"The current rate is fifty-one point two five pounds," the goblin huffed.

Hermione looked at the bottom line and let out a loud squeak. "Eighty thousand galleons! Harry, you're a millionaire!"

Harry stumbled and braced himself against the counter. "I am…?"

"The Potters have always been a fairly wealthy family," McGonagall explained, "like most of the members of the Wizengamot—"

A low growl made them jump as the goblin cleared his throat. "If you're _quite_ ready, Griphook will escort you to Mr. Potter's vault."

"Follow me, please," a gruff voice said from beside them before they could delay any further. Griphook led the Grangers and McGonagall out of the marble chamber to a dark stone passageway. He then stepped into a mine cart and motioned for the others to join him. Even McGonagall looked uncomfortable as they did. They soon found out why, as the cart took off down the track, running as fast as any roller coaster and far less securely, steering itself through a maze of twisting passages and a dozen different forks. They could just make out the tunnel as it was lit by flaming torches, and some of the stalactites appeared to come perilously close to the riders' heads. Hermione screamed most of the way, and her mother wasn't much better off.

"Somebody really needs to introduce the magical world to the Health and Safety Executive!" Dan shouted as the cart jerked around a particularly tight corner. Griphook responded by letting out a low, guttural laugh.

The cart levelled out over an underground lake in an enormous cavern, and the Grangers finally calmed down and looked about in wonder at the massive columns that stretched from floor to ceiling and stalactites and stalagmites that grew nearly as far. Not far past the lake, they finally rolled to a stop.

"Here it is," Griphook said. "Vault Six Hundred Eighty-Seven." He unlocked the door, and a suspicious green smoke briefly billowed out.

Even after seeing how much money Harry had on paper, the Grangers gasped when they saw the inside of the vault. Gold coins were stacked up almost as tall as Harry, and there were multiple piles of mingled silver and bronze. A stack of life-sized magical portraits leaned against one wall. The one on top showed what they guessed was a Potter ancestor from the seventeenth century sleeping in a gilded chair in front of a picture window. That same chair, they soon realised, was sitting in the opposite corner of the vault with several other pieces of antique furniture. A wardrobe stood beside the door, which they found contained several very expensive-looking dresses and dress robes, including a wedding dress, all surprisingly well-preserved. Several large boxes were stacked against another wall. Harry opened one of them with his family watching over his shoulder. They gasped again when they saw what was inside: twenty generations' worth of family jewelry in gold and silver and stones of every colour.

"Wow, Harry, you've got enough stuff here for a whole ball," Hermione said, before squealing with delight when she saw the true prize in the vault: a box underneath the jewelry labelled "Rare Books".

The family bookworm was a little disappointed when she found that a majority of the rare books were not in English, but the ones they could interpret were intriguing: there was an autographed first edition of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_; an older tome on the same subject called _Rare Arcane Faunae of Western Europe_; treatises on alchemy by Nicolas Flamel, Paracelsus, and Judah Loew; something that from the pictures looked like an ancient Runic copy of _Tales of Beedle the Bard_; a book in a language they couldn't identify that seemed to be about wands; surprisingly, a copy of James VI's witch-hunting guide, _Daemonologie_; and, most astonishingly, a book called _Magicae Lucis et Opticarum_ by Sir Isaac Newton.

"Hermione, we have a lot of shopping to do. We can always come back another time," Emma told her daughter gently. Hermione reluctantly tore herself away from looking through the remaining books, insisting on taking with her (with Harry's permission) only a nineteenth century text called _Magic of the World's Cultures_. Meanwhile, Emma counted out sixty galleons from the stacks and stashed them in her purse. "How much are the other ones?" she asked.

"Seventeen sickles to the galleon, twenty-nine knuts to the sickle," Griphook said curtly.

"What, prime numbers?" Dan said.

"Yes," the goblin replied, as if it were perfectly reasonable. "Come on, if you're finished."

After another very rough cart ride back to the front, Dan and Emma opened an account for Hermione, putting in most of the money they had brought for supplies, leaving ten galleons for general spending money and the extra books Hermione was sure to want, before finally stepping back, blinking, into the sunlight.

* * *

_First year students will require:_

_1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

_Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_

After grabbing lunch at one of the shops, the Grangers proceeded to Madam Malkin's for their uniforms. Madam Malkin, to her credit, was calm, professional, and saw them through quickly without letting anyone approach Harry. The fact that Professor McGonagall was hovering over her shoulder might have contributed to that a little.

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set of glass or crystal phials_

_1 set brass scales_

Potage's Cauldron Shop had a few of the well-wishers from the Leaky Cauldron hanging around it, but they were still keeping their distance from McGonagall. Dan and Emma weren't too happy about the requirement of a pewter cauldron. ("Shouldn't be brewing _anything_ in something that melts that easily," Dan said.) But that was the requirement, and they were reassured that the cauldrons had fire-protection charms. They went with the collapsible variety, since they knew all the spare space in the trunks would be filled with books.

_1 telescope_

The whole family had more than a passing interest in space, so they checked out all of the options. Harry was drawn to a high-end model with a five-inch lens, a tripod, automatic star alignment, and magical contrast enhancement, but on the advice of the very eager shopkeeper, he accepted the two-inch student model that he could actually carry up to the top of the Astronomy Tower.

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS._

"Come along, Harry. Do well this year, and we'll think about getting you one next summer."

_Students may also bring, if they wish, an owl OR a cat OR a toad._

"Are you going to take Rowena with you?" Emma asked.

"I don't know. I've been talking to her, and I don't think she wants to go," Harry said.

"Oh? Why not?"

"She's getting kind of old. I think she's thirteen, and that's like seventy in cat years. I don't think she wants to move at her age."

"That's probably for the best at that age, Harry," Professor McGonagall said. "I would recommend that you buy an owl, though. It would be very helpful for sending messages, and having your own, they will usually be more loyal and reliable than the school owls."

"That sounds like a good idea," Dan said. "Would you like an owl, kids?"

"Sure."

"Yeah."

The went over to Eeylops Owl Emporium, which was too dark to see in properly, but that meant that the owls were awake and active. Harry immediately gravitated toward a beautiful snowy owl, and no one could fault his choice, even if she did have a bit of a chip on her shoulder around him. After all, given Harry's youth, she was probably the superior predator of the two.

"What are you going to name her?" his father asked.

"How about Helga?" Harry said. The owl gave him what he could swear was a disapproving glare.

"I don't think she likes it, Harry," Hermione said. "I think she looks more like a…Hedwig."

"Who?"

"Hedwig of Vienna. She invented the Flame-Freezing Charm to fight the Inquisition."

The owl hooted at Hermione and…did she just nod her head?

"See, she likes it."

"Alright, you win, _Hedwig_," Harry told the owl.

_1 wand_

A tinkling bell announced their entrance into the shabby little shop. It was like no other place the children had visited. It was positively humming with magic from the thousands of wands stacked from floor to ceiling, like the singing of a great choir, far away. Hermione thought she could hear a particular note rising above the rest, but they both felt that they could almost swim in the magic. As they took it in, an old man with wild white hair and unblinking silver eyes looked up from where he was carving a piece of wood. "Good afternoon," he said.

"Hello," the Grangers replied.

"Ah, yes, I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Mr. Potter," he said. "You have your mother's eyes, you know. It seems like it was only yesterday when I sold her her first wand."

"You remember her?" Harry said.

"Oh, I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand." He began to lean closer to Harry as he spoke. Emma unconsciously tightened her grip on her children. The old man was starting to get creepy. "Your mother's wand was ten and a quarter inches, willow, and unicorn hair—nice and swishy, great for charms work. Your father's wand, on the other hand, was eleven inches, mahogany, and dragon heartstring—pliable and excellent for transfiguration.

Harry backed away as the man came almost nose to nose with him. He seemed to be staring at his scar.

"Ah, but I'm terribly sorry," he seemed to snap out of it and turned to the rest of his family. I don't believe we've met."

"Mr. Ollivander, these are Harry's adoptive parents, Dan and Emma Granger," McGonagall said. "Their daughter, Hermione, is also starting at Hogwarts this year."

"I _see_. I _have_ seen some other muggle-borns come through here today. "Well, then, let's get you out of the way first, my dear. I suspect your…brother may have more…particular tastes."

_Not helping the creepiness_, Emma thought.

"Which is your wand arm, Miss Granger?"

"Well, um, I guess it's this one," Hermione said, holding out her right arm.

"Very good." Mr. Ollivander pulled out a long tape measure, which leapt from his hand and began measuring her arm. The tape measure held a quill with its far end like the tail of a snake and was writing figures on a ledger.

"A very complex business, wand-making," Ollivander monologued in that strange, almost sing-song voice of his. "It is the wand that chooses the witch or wizard, rather than vice-versa—at least if it is done properly. The wand wood will be sensitive to your temperament and personality—we use dozens of types of wood here. Of course, only the highest quality wood is made into an Ollivander wand, and no two Ollivander wands are alike, just as no two trees are alike.

The tape measure took the distance around Hermione's head, and then measured the distance between her nostrils.

"But each wand also contains a core of a powerful magical substance. We use the heartstrings of dragons, the tail hairs of unicorns, and the tail feathers of phoenixes. It is the wand core that is sensitive to your natural magical talents. Every wand has different magical talents of its own, and it will desire to find a match who shares them. Only when matched to the wand that chooses you will you be able to cast spells to your full potential, whereas any other wand will resist your command."

Just when Dan and Emma were starting to wonder if Ollivander was barmy talking about wands having minds of their own, he stopped the tape measure with a snap of his fingers and went back into the stacks. He didn't even look at the measurements.

They had no idea how he could pick out a wand from all the possibilities, but just a few moments later, they heard him cry out, "Oh! Oh my! Could it be?" He came back, removing a light-coloured wand carved with an intricate leafy design from a long, thin box. "Vine wood and dragon heartstring," he said excitedly, placing it in Hermione's hand. "Ten inches—go ahead, give it a wave."

Hermione felt that distinct high note of magic rise to a fever pitch. When she took the wand in her hand, she felt as if her whole arm was electrified. She knew instinctively, even before she waved it, that it was the one for her. But she still gave the wand a tentative flick, and a stream of pure white sparks shot from the end and spread out in a ring around the room. She jumped back with a squeak and nearly dropped the wand, but Ollivander's face lit up.

"Oh, marvellous!" he exclaimed. "Vine will show—by far the most eager of all woods, though it's very rare that I've seen such a connection before even touching it. I could already feel it humming on its shelf, something I have only felt twice before in all my years of wandcrafting."

"Really, sir?" Herimone said.

"Oh, yes. You must be very in tune with your magic to make such a strong connection. That is a powerful wand, Miss Granger—a wand of hidden depths and great vision, undoubtedly like yourself. I will be eager to hear of your exploits in the coming years."

Hermione grinned at the compliment, though her parents were sceptical. That description sounded more like a horoscope than anything else, though Harry's ordeal would soon show them how difficult finding a match could be.

"Now…for Mr. Potter…" the old man started up his tape measure again.

Ollivander didn't find Harry's wand on the first try, nor on the second or the third. In fact, the pile soon grew to over two dozen. Every wand Harry tried gave off a quiver of magic, but it always felt cold, or dulled, or sharp, like a slap across his hand. And they all seemed to push away from him, some less and some more, like the wrong pole of a magnet. He was starting to understand what Ollivander said about unsuited wands resisting him.

"Mr. Ollivander, has your family really been making wands since 382 BC?" Hermione asked to pass the time.

"Of course," the old man said without slowing his pace of testing wands. "Well, not precisely. Modern wands were not invented until the twelfth century. The earliest wizards used large staffs. But the first Ollivander came to Britain with the Romans and settled here to take advantage of the high quality of the local trees. We are one of the oldest families in Britain."

"Wait, the Romans?" Dan said. "The Roman conquest wasn't until 43 AD." Ollivander gave him a bemused look.

In frustration, Harry tried to force his magic through one of the wands. It backfired, blasting out of his hand with a little flash of light and stinging his hand. Ollivander turned back to him.

"_Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere—I wonder, now—yes, why not—unusual combination—holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." _

_Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls._

_Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well…how curious…how very curious…"_

"_Sorry, but what's curious?"_

_Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare._

"_It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather—just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when it's brother—why it's brother gave you that scar."_

Harry flinched back and to the side, cat-like, as he rarely did anymore, and fixed his eyes back on the wandmaker. The others sucked in a breath. "What does that mean, sir?" he asked, nearly hissing the question.

"That is for you to decide, Mr. Potter. The wand chooses the wizard, remember, but it is the wizard who must choose how to wield it. But _I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter…After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things—terrible, yes, but great._"

Harry took his wand uneasily, pondering the old wandmaker's words, and the Grangers paid seven galleons apiece for the pair. That seemed like quite a lot for something as delicate as a stick, but Ollivander assured them they were charmed to be considerably stronger than ordinary wood. They left the shop in silence, even Professor McGonagall, wondering just what kind of consequences might come about from Harry's unique match of wand.

_First students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection by Quentin Trimble_

They already had one copy of _A History of Magic_, but the others were all lined up for incoming students at the front of the shop. Most of the course books were quite large, but they were also used over multiple years. But even after picking them up, Hermione (and the others, for that matter) wanted to browse the store. She quickly grabbed a copy of _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 2)_, the only additional book for second years, to "work ahead", while Harry, perhaps influenced by Mr. Ollivander's words, collected the two other Defence textbooks used by the upper years. Dan and Emma, determined to broaden their knowledge of recent wizarding events, picked up _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_.

They later found Harry standing frozen in front of a prominent rack of books in the children's section.

"Harry, we have to go soon," his mother said. "What is it?"

Harry just pointed to the sign above the rack: _The Harry Potter Adventures_.

"Oh, my."

They were children's books, written on a Year Five or Six reading level. There were nine in the series, supposedly detailing each of the years from 1982 through 1990. The cover of each book showed a boy who actually looked reasonably like the real Harry, minus the glasses, having magical adventures in a different exotic location around the world.

"_Harry Potter in the Congo_? _Harry Potter and the Temple of Doom_? _Harry Potter on the Rio Bravo_?" Hermione read off some of the titles. "_Modern Magical History says_ he was sent to live with muggles," she complained to their mother. "Don't they know this has to be complete fiction?"

"Oh come on, you know that's just a cover story," said a little redheaded girl who came up and looked over the shelves. "Ooh, they have the new one: _Harry Potter Down Under_."

She grabbed a copy, and Harry quickly followed suit. The cover showed a ten-year-old "Harry Potter" standing in a desert, wearing an Akubra hat, carrying a platypus on his shoulder, and leading a Tasmanian tiger on a leash.

"Okay, that doesn't even look like me," he said.

"Well, it kinda does," Hermione replied.

"I've still never been to Australia."

They heard the little girl suck in a breath. Harry turned to face her, and she gasped and staggered backwards, clutching the book to her chest.

"Ginny, get your book and come on. I have to start dinner at home." A plump woman with long, frizzy red hair came up behind her, dragging an equally red-haired set of twins by their wrists.

"M-M-Mum…" Ginny stuttered, pointing at Harry.

"Oh, my," the woman said.

"Blimey, are you—" one of the twins said.

"He is, aren't you?" the other finished.

"Fred, George, don't bother him," their mother scolded. "Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Potter. I'm sure you have more interesting things to read than these things."

"Huh? Oh, actually I was just going to get myself a set," Harry said idly, trying to ignore the fact that random adults kept calling him "Mr. Potter". He started taking a copy of each book from the shelf.

"Really, why?" Emma said.

"Well, I want to find out what people are saying about me."

"Harry Potter reading about—"

"—Harry Potter," the twins said.

"Brilliant!"

"Best prank we've seen all summer."

"Boys! Come along!" their mother ordered. She dragged them away. Ginny gave Harry a lingering look over her shoulder as she followed.

"Well, I think that's enough books for one day," Emma said. "Let's go find your father and pay for them so we can get back to Professor McGonagall."

A half hour later, the muggle-born group shared a laugh at the Harry Potter books over ice cream after hearing a more subdued retelling of the true story. Even Harry laughed at how absurd the stories were that he found whilst thumbing through the books. But underneath the humour, there was an edge of concern: just what was the magical world expecting from Harry Potter? And how would they react to the real truth?


End file.
